Bobby's Tailor: Mary Lynne Andrews
by BookWorm37
Summary: Prequel to 'How Does Bobby Afford All That Armani' A group of oneshots about Bobby's relationship with the spry woman named Mary Lynne. The BA will come in the sequel to follow in a few months. COMPLETE
1. Unconventional

A/N: This is for all of you who are wondering how Mary Lynne and Bobby first met. I hope you like it - there will be more one-shots like this later, detailing their relationship, and the other aspects of Lynne's life I find relevent.

---

"You want to _what_?" George asked one of his top designers incredulously.

Mary Lynne Andrews sat before him, exasperated at having to explain her idea _again_, "I want to set up a contract with a few NYPD detectives, and maybe the DA or one of the ADA's so that they'll wear Armani exclusively at all court affairs. It's pretty much free advertising, George."

"It's _not_ free, Lynne," George said, wondering if it had been a good idea to hire the woman straight out of college, "You have to pay for the suits and the labor to make them, still. That's a pretty big cost to be giving away."

"But you wouldn't be giving it away! You'd be getting free advertising in return. Plus, making friends with the DA's office would hurt."

George stood from his desk, prompting Lynne to do the same. He sighed as he shook his head slightly, "_You_ find the guys willing to do this, Lynne. It goes bust, you get fired … and if it works and sales go up enough … there'll be a bonus for you."

Lynne nodded once, relief evident in her eyes, "Thank you, George. I'll do my best not to disappoint you."

"You better, Lynne. You're a damn good designer, I'd hate to have to fire you over this."

---

Mary Lynne lived in a fairly good-sized two-bedroom apartment, close to Central Park, with her younger brother, Michael. He'd moved out to New York to live with her a few months before, after he had graduated high school in Alabama and wanted to get away from the rural life and join his sister in the urban "paradise" that was New York City.

Michael was trying to pursue a career as an actor, while working part time at one of the many party shops in New York. In between auditions and work, he spent a lot of his time either at the public library reading the extensive collection of plays and scripts, or out with friends he had made from work.

Needless to say, it was rather a shock for Mary Lynne, that when she arrived home that night she found two police officers waiting for her.

"Excuse me?" she asked as she came closer to them, trepidation rising in her heart. "This is my apartment, can I help you?"

One of them, the tall one with curly dark brown hair cropped close to his head, pulled out a badge, "I'm Sergeant Goren, this is my partner, Sergeant Casovick. We're looking for a Michael Andrews."

Lynne's face went white, "That's my brother. He lives with me." She moved to open the door and ushered the two men inside. "Please, come in."

Goren and Casovick followed her into the living room, where she dropped her things on the coffee table before turning around to look at them, "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier, I'm Mary Lynne. Can you tell me why you're looking for Mikey?"

Casovick started the conversation, letting his partner wander around the room that managed to be clean while still looking lived in. "We believe he's involved in a drug ring that we're investigating."

The gnawing dread that had built up in Lynne's stomach burst, leaving horror, anger and disappointment in it's wake. Goren watched as the emotions flitted across the woman's face, noting that surprise wasn't among them.

"Cocaine or heroine?" she asked, her voice quiet as she tried to keep her emotions in check as she digested the news.

Casovick looked at her, a little surprised that she was thinking about that, and not how she 'knew' her brother wasn't the one that they were looking for. "Cocaine."

The disappointment was what finally filled Lynne's eyes. Tears came to her eyes as she whispered, "If he's not hiding in his room, he's down at the auto garage two blocks south of here - Vinnie's Auto. There's usually about ten thugs there and five or six women who can definitely hold their own. Watch out for the one with the glass eye."

Goren met her eyes, relaying to her that he was very thankful and he'd do everything in his power to get Mikey out all right. "We'll be in touch," he said as the partners walked out the door.

Only after the door was closed did Lynne finally succumb to the emotions of betrayal and despair that filled her heart. He'd _promised_ her! When Michael had shown up on her doorstep those months ago, he'd looked right into her eyes and told her that he was clean and was going to stay that way. She'd thought he had.

Her knees buckled underneath her petite, healthy frame as the tears overwhelmed her eyes. She didn't know how long she lay there, curled up in a tight, shaking ball as she sobbed about the betrayal her brother's sins and crimes made her feel. All she knew was that after a while she wasn't crying alone anymore – someone was holding her.

Her tear-stained face looked up to find Goren's concerned and empathetic eyes watching her carefully. "He promised me," she whispered after a few more moments of silence. "He told me he was gonna stay clean. He lied to me."

His sad face nodded, "I know." She buried her face into his shoulder, unsure why she felt so secure and safe in his arms when she hadn't let herself get this close to anyone since she'd left home nine years before.

After what seemed like hours, Lynne quieted down and let Goren go. She smiled softly as she wiped her eyes, "Sorry about that, Sergeant Goren."

He smiled softly in reply, a little boy smile that was hesitant and sincere at the same time, "Call me Bobby. And don't worry about it."

Lynne smiled slightly at his attempt at informality, "Thank you, Bobby. Why'd you come back?"

His face became professional again; "Michael's refusing to talk to us until he sees you. Can you handle going down to the station to talk to him?"

Lynne quickly composed herself as much as possible. With a nod she got up and went to get her coat and purse.

---

Michael Andrews fidgeted nervously in the cold, metal seat as he waited with the state appointed lawyer for his sister to arrive. He didn't really know what had compelled him to ask to talk to her, but he _did_ know that he had to do some serious damage control.

When Lynne walks in, the area under her eyes almost as red as her hair, he's not sure he can take what he knows is coming. Wordlessly she sits down in the chair directly across the table from him and his lawyer, her eyes sad listless.

"Lynne …" he began, but she shook her head, stopping his words.

"It doesn't matter, Michael. Nothing you can say to me matters right now. You lied to me – and that's what hurts most."

Michael looked down at his hands before turning to look at his lawyer, "Can you leave us alone for a minute, please?"

"I don't think …" the other man began, only to be cut off by his client.

"I don't care what you think! I want to talk to my sister!"

In silence, the lawyer got up and left the siblings in the interrogation room by themselves.

"I'm disappointed in you, Michael. You lied to me. That's what hurts the most." Lynne shook her head softly, "What'd you want to see me for?"

"I – I don't know, Lynne. I screwed up. Big time."

Lynne nodded, her eyes still sad and soulful, "I know, Michael. But you don't need to be telling me this. You need to tell the officers who're asking you questions, Michael."

He adamantly shook his head, "I can't, Lynne. Don't ask me to do that."

His sister leaned forward, one of her hands snaking out to grab his as she looked into his eyes, "Michael, I love you. But right now I'm not sure if I can ever trust you again. If you talk to them – tell them what you know – I'll try to trust you again. Can you do that for me?"

Michael shook his head, "I can't, Lynne. I can't betray them."

Lynne slammed her fist down on the metal table that separated her from her brother. She got to her feet, the anger and disappointment overwhelming her features. "When you came to New York what did you promise me? Huh! WHAT DID YOU PROMISE ME?" She rounded on him, coming within inches of his face as she yelled.

He refused to meet her gaze, afraid of what he'd find there, guilty that he was responsible for it being there. "No more drugs," he whispered as he studied his hands without really seeing them.

She cupped his face in her left hand, turning his head toward hers so he couldn't look away, "You need to tell them what you know, Michael. You tell them … or I will disown you." He tried to look away, but her face and eyes only followed him, "Who's more family to you, Mike? Me or them?"

Without another word Lynne released his face and left the room. She stopped after closing the door, finding Goren and Casovick waiting there for her. Her mind thought back to the challenge George had left her with at the end of her workday. She produced two business cards from her purse and handed them to the two sergeants, "If you have any more questions, please call."

Casovick looked at the card, "Armani? You a designer?"

Lynne nodded, "I'm one of the top designers in business suits."

"Business suits? There's more than one kind of suit?" Casovick asked.

Lynne nodded, an amused smile on her face, "If either of you are interested I have a proposition for both of you. Just give me a call when you get a chance."

The two men watched her walk away before turning back to see if Michael Andrews would cooperate with them this time.

---

"Mary Lynne speaking," she said when she noticed the shrill ringing of her telephone.

"Hi … it's Bobby. I was wondering … what the full … proposition was."

Lynne smiled, pleased that the big cop had called after all. "Well, Bobby, if you accept my deal it would mean that you get free Armani suits tailors specifically for you, in exchange for allowing me to take some photos of you in the suits so my boss can see I'm doing my job … and you'll only be allowed to wear Armani when going to public affairs like court or press hearings."

"I don't go to press hearings," Bobby said, slightly amused that Lynne would think that a guy like him would do something like that.

"Sooner or later you will, Bobby. … Thank you for helping my brother."

"It … wasn't me. You – you're the one that got him to open us ... to help … us."

"Yeah, well …" Lynne trailed off, unsure what to say to the officer. "Come by and see me tonight at my apartment after you get off work and I'll take your measurements."

"Sounds great, Lynne. See you then."

"Bye."

Lynne hung up the phone and smiled softly down at the sketch she was working on for a new suit. She'd had Bobby's tall, broad body in her mind when she'd been designing the cut and length of everything. Maybe it'd be the one she started with when she met with the sergeant that night to get his measurements…

Fin

---

A/N: Well? Was it any good? Please review and tell me what you think.


	2. Opening Night

A/N: This one takes place about two years after 'Unconventional'.

* * *

Mary Lynne Andrews was a woman on a mission as she stormed into the Narcotics bullpen, her evening gown bellowing out and making her look like an angel of vengeance or something else equally frightening.

The men and women who worked that floor all looked up when they heard the telltale click of her heels on the linoleum as she made her way to the back of the bullpen, to the desk of one Detective Robert Goren. She stopped a foot away from his desk, her deep purple gown draping around her majestically as she stood there with a look of anger on her face.

All of them knew her. Within three weeks of getting transferred to Narcotics, the new ones met her. Mary Lynne Andrews was one of the nicest women any of the cops on the squad knew. And she was also one of the scariest to cross. When she was disappointed in you, it hurt worse than getting yelled at by your parents or favorite teacher.

Without looking up, Bobby asked her, "How'd you get past the guards?"

"They like me," she replied, the anger evident in her voice. "Do you know what time it is, Robert?" Everyone in hearing distance winced, knowing that Lynne only resorted to full first names when she was really upset.

He glanced at the clock, "Six thirty-five."

"Do you know what _day_ it is?" Lynne asked, annoyed at Bobby's casual nature.

"August 23rd… oh," quickly, Bobby closed the file he was filling out and started getting his things together.

"I've been waiting in that damn car for the past half an hour for you, Bobby!"

He frowned, "Sorry. I lost track of the time."

Her eyes softened, knowing how common an occurrence that was, "Your suit's in the car, you can change before we leave. But hurry up - Michael's going to be _very_ disappointed if we're late."

Bobby nodded, pulling on his suit jacket as they headed toward the elevators, "It starts at seven, right?"

"No, they close the doors at seven, but it doesn't technically start until seven-fifteen," Lynne reminded him as they waited for the elevator to open. Soon they were on their way to the ground floor.

---

Michael paced back and forth across the stage; still covered by the thick, red curtain the crew had named 'Charlie' since it had been installed two years before. He was nervous. There was no other way around it: Michael Andrews was clammy-hands-revved-up-heartbeat-forget-your-lines _nervous_.

And to top it all off – Lynne and Bobby had said they'd stop by backstage to wish him luck before the show started and they weren't there yet! Bobby was the main reason he got the part in the first place. If they forgot that it was his opening night … Michael wasn't sure he'd be able to pull off his part.

Just then he saw a flash of purple fabric that was the same Lynne's dress was made with. He walked toward it and was relieved to find his sister and friend standing in the right wing, waiting to see him before he went on.

"Hey, Lynne, Bobby, you made it!" Michael said as he hugged his sister. "I was worried you wouldn't."

Lynne smiled, "Yeah, well, Mr. Hot Shot over here wouldn't have if I hadn't picked him up. He's neck deep in a case right now and forgot what day it is."

Michael gave Bobby a hug, "Well, maybe the play will give you a fresh perspective to look from. I'm glad you made it in any case."

Bobby smiled softly back at the younger man, "No problem, Michael. Lynne's right though, I wouldn't have remember about tonight until half way through the play if she hadn't come storming through the bullpen in search of me."

"Yeah, well thanks for showing. I mean, I based a lot of my performance on watching you interact with the perps."

"But the play's based off Sherlock Holmes," Bobby pointed out.

"And? But? So? Therefore? You're like Sherlock Holmes' love child with Einstein, Bobby," Michael said, causing the other man to blush. The stage manager glared at Michael, pointing to the clock to remind him that it was almost time to start. "Oh, sorry guys, but I think you'd better get out there now. It's almost time for the curtain to rise."

Lynne grinned at her brother, "Break a leg."

Michael nodded as he watched the pair walk out the side entrance, on their way to find their seats. "I'll try my best," he whispered, moving to take his place on stage at the table set up for Sherlock to eat at.

Here goes nothing, he thought as the audience lights dimmed, stage lights rose and the curtain opened to mid-century England …

At intermission, Lynne and Bobby made their way to the bar, to enjoy a nice glass of wine while talking about the acting and waiting for the second half to start.

Bobby was piecing together the crime for Lynne, to prove to her skeptical mind that he already had figured out who the murderer was, when a man came over and stood beside them. "You know, Goren, that it's not nice for the other viewers of the play to have the whole thing ruined by a profiler."

Bobby looked up at the slightly older man, "Deakins?"

The man nodded, one arm wrapped possessively around the woman at his side. "It's good to see you again, Bobby. Now, who's this woman you're spilling the beans to?"

Lynne smiled warmly as she held out her hand, "Mary Lynne Andrews. And Bobby's not spilling the beans, he's just explaining to me how he came up with the answer to the puzzle when I never found it until the last few moments before the killer's revealed."

Deakins shook her hand with a slight smile playing across his face, "Lt. Jimmy Deakins. This is my wife, Angie. It was my understanding that this was the first time this play has been put on in the city. How have you seen it before?"

"Oh, I helped my brother memorize his lines. This is nothing new for me, it's just … all put together now," Lynne said, the warm smile never leaving her face for more than a moment at a time.

Bobby grinned, "Her brother's playing Sherlock."

"Oh, I thought your name sounded familiar," Angie said, "You work for Armani don't you, Ms. Andrews?"

Lynne nodded, "It's Lynne, please, and yes, I do. I'm a primary designer for the business suit line. Not very many people I talk with on the street know that, Mrs. Deakins. How did you?"

Angie grinned, "Oh, call me Angie. I worked in the accounting department at Armani for several years. I just left a few months ago, actually."

"Really?" Lynne asked, finding this woman very fascinating and wonderful to talk to. She opened her mouth to say more, but the room started to empty as people began to flow back into the theatre for the second half of the play. "It was lovely talking to you," Lynne said. She pulled out a business card from her purse and handed it to Angie, "I'd rather like to have lunch with you some time, Angie. Just give me a call and we can set up a date."

Angie nodded and the Deakins watched the pair move into the throng. She turned to her husband, "Didn't you tell me that Bobby Goren had a thing for tall women?"

Jimmy shrugged, "Maybe he got over it. But I don't think they're dating."

Angie sighed as they started walking toward their seats, "Jimmy, darling, they're going to the theatre together … if they're not dating then I'm Joan of Arc."

"Shh, the play's starting again."

* * *

A/N: Ooohhh! Please review and tell me what you think! Oh, and if you have requests about a time in Bobby and Lynne's friendship that you want to read a story about, just ask. I decided to do all of the stories before 'How Does Bobby Afford all the Armani' before I continue with the story after it. 


	3. Branching Out

A/N: I'm really glad that all of you like Lynne! This one takes place about a year after 'Opening Night'. It's a C/O with _Law and Order _and the movie _Exiled_. When I watched Exiled I wondered how Sammy was able to afford the Armani suits that Mike said "Cops like you and me can't afford." while talking to Lennie Briscoe. This is how:

* * *

Detective Sammy Kurtz groaned softly to himself as he walked down the courthouse steps. He was called as a witness in the trial of one of the men responsible for the death of a teenage girl in Central Park, and the jury had just gone to deliberate. He was going to lunch with Detectives Lennie Briscoe, from Homicide with Sammy, and Bobby Goren from Narcotics. Personally, Sammy only knew Goren by reputation, but apparently he had worked with Lennie before in some task force a few years back. If Lennie trusted the guy, who was Sammy to say anything bad about him? 

ADA Jack McCoy was good, and Kurtz was positive the man would get justice for the girl, but it didn't help matters at all that the defense attorney hired by the wealthy defendant was one of the best in the state. Oh, well, Sammy already did all he could for the girl and her family, the rest was up to the twelve men and women now deliberating.

He spotted Lennie talking to a tall man with curly dark hair and a woman about five and a half feet tall, near the bar, when he entered the restaurant. The woman was holding a portfolio much like the ones numerous detectives used to keep their notes organized.

"I can't believe that two detectives with the Manhattan Police Department are telling me they can't see the differences between these two suits!" the woman exclaimed in an irritated manner. Sammy frowned, wondering who the hell she was and what she was doing there.

Her dark blue eyes found Sammy watching them closely. With a sly smile she asked him, "Can you believe this? These men are _paid_ to spot things like this."

Sammy frowned, "Detectives aren't paid to spot the minute differences in Armani suits."

She raised an eyebrow, "They are when those minute differences constitute a price change of over two hundred dollars."

Lennie took the pictures from her, "There's a difference of two hundred dollars in these suits, Lynne? How?"

The woman identified as 'Lynne' explained the differences to the detective with a grin. As she finished she turned to the three men and said, "And that is why you all need me around: To teach you the finer points of high society."

Lennie grinned in return, swinging an arm around Lynne's shoulders, "Sure it is. I thought it was to cut down on the women we pick up. Oh, Lynne this is Sammy Kurtz. Sammy, this is the sweetest gal in the entire world – Mary Lynne Andrews."

Sammy extended his hand, to shake Lynne's and said, "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Andrews. How do you know Lennie and Bobby?"

Lynne smiled warmly and Sammy found it the nicest smile he'd seen in ages, " Call me, Lynne, Sammy. I've known Bobby for about three years and Lennie for about … oh, I'd say two and a half. Is that right, Lennie?"

Lennie shrugged, "I think so. Yeah, it was about that time my wife served me with divorce papers and I met you and Bobby the next month at the Commissioner's Ball."

Lynne's face grew suddenly concerned, but without losing a beat she said, "I'll be right back. If they order drinks while I'm gone, Bobby, I want a green apple martini." She picked up her purse (which contained the answer to her sudden problem) and walked briskly to the woman's restroom.

Bobby smirked, a chuckle escaping his mouth as the restroom door closed behind Lynne. Without turning to Lennie, he said, "Thirty bucks says she orders the biggest steak on the menu when she gets back."

Lennie shook his head, "You're on, Goren. I've never seen her eat anything other than a salad at this place."

"That's because you've never gone out to eat with her when she's menstruating."

Sammy and Lennie eyed Bobby as if he was insane. "How do you know that?" Sammy asked, incredulously.

Bobby looked at him with a glint in his eye, "She only orders apple martinis when she is. The rest of the time she drinks white wine. Not to mention she has no qualms about leaving her purse with three detectives. She'd only take it if she needed something out of it … which would be one of the tampons in the false bottom, and a Midol."

"How the hell do you know that?" it was Lennie's turn act incredulous.

"I got her that purse for her birthday last year."

"Oh."

The hostess came up to the three men and soon they were seated at their table, drink orders placed, and waiting for Lynne to immerge from the restroom. "So, Bobby, how long have you and Lynne been seeing each other?" Sammy asked as they waited.

Bobby, who'd just taken a drink from his water glass, swallowed it wrong at the question and proceeded to cough. When he finally got it under control he answered with another question, "Wh-what gave you … that idea?"

"I don't know," Sammy said sarcastically, "It might be the fact that you know her menstrual cycle, or maybe the fact that you gave her a purse for her birthday … or maybe it was the way you two keep on looking at each other. Take your pick."

Bobby glared at him, "First of all, Kurtz, it's kinda easy to pick up on someone's cycle when you know what signs to look for. Second, the bag was her idea and the one she had at the time needed replacing. Third, I'm not going to even justify that by responding."

Their waitress returned and passed out their drinks moments before Lynne returned from the restroom. She took one look at her menu before closing it and looking at the new detective she'd never met before.

"You know, Lennie, I think you were right about Sammy," she said as the detective shifted nervously in his seat.

Lennie took a sip of his club soda with a nod, "See? I told you, Lynne. He's a much better candidate than I am."

Lynne shook her head, "I wouldn't say _that_, Lennie. I still want you to do it, too. I'm trying to break out of just Narcotics cops – I can't do that with just _one_ from Homicide."

"What are you talking about?" Sammy asked, thoroughly confused at the conversation and how it pertained to him.

Lynne turned to him with a smile, "I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you. I'm a designer with Armani – I make business suits. Three years ago I started a project that pretty much involves me finding a select few police officers in the NYPD, and a few ADA's and giving them free, custom made Armani suits in exchange for their services as a walking advertisement and model."

Sammy nodded, still confused, "What?"

Lynne chuckled, "I'll give you free Armani if you agree to let me photograph you in the suits, and only wear Armani when you have to testify in court or go to press hearings."

His eyes widened, "Are you serious?"

She nodded, "Bobby's been doing it for three years now, along with Detectives Emil Casovick, Charlie Henderson and Mitch Stevens from Narcotics. I've yet to find an ADA I like enough to qualify to get on the list, and I'm still trying to convince Captain Jimmy Deakins that I can make anyone look good in Armani. What do you say, Sammy? Up for the challenge of standing still for half an hour every other week so I can fit a suit to you?"

Sammy nodded at long last, "I think so. And I happen to know an ADA you might like."

"Are you all ready to order?" their waitress asked as she came back over, an obviously fake smile on her face.

Lennie nodded, motioning for Lynne to begin – positive she'd order a salad.

Lynne handed the waitress her menu as she said, "I'll have the Reuben sandwich with mashed potatoes on the side."

All three men looked at her in shock. This was new. Lynne looked back at them with wide eyes, "What? It looked tasty."

"But you always get a salad," Lennie protested.

"This time I wanted a burger," Lynne explained. After the waitress left, she added, "You guys _really_ should stop betting on what I'm going to order when we go out to eat."

Fin

* * *

A/N: So? What do you think? I've actually started my period like that, WITHOUT a tampon or a pad on hand. Oh, those sad, sad days. Luckily I was with my sister and she had a tampon with her. Oh, the joys of being a woman. 

Please review and tell me what you think.


	4. One Night to Change a Life

A/N: Someone requested that Lynne and Bobby have a love affair. It turned into much more. This takes place just a few weeks after 'Branching Out'.

* * *

Bleary-eyed, Lynne opened her apartment door. She'd nodded off in front of the television to be awoken by the persistent knocking. On the other side she found a very distraught looking Bobby Goren.

"Bobby? What's wrong?" she asked, squinting her eyes as she looked up at him.

"It… It's my mom," he said, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot as he silently asked for admittance into Lynne's apartment.

Lynne moved aside to allow him entrance, "Come on in. I'll put the kettle on for some tea. You can sit in there and brood if you want."

The brooding mass that was Bobby followed Lynne into the dining room like a little boy. How the hell was he supposed to explain _this_ to her? True, he'd told her about his mother … but he shouldn't even be there in the first place! This was _his_ problem to deal with. Not hers. What if she left him? No, not Lynne…

"Want to talk about it?" she asked as she sat next to him at the dining room table. Wordlessly, Bobby shook his head. It was bad enough he'd gone there in the first place – he didn't need to screw it up even more by _talking_.

Lynne watched him retreat. Not knowing what had happened, but being smart enough to hazard a guess as to what had happened to his mother, she reached across the distance separating them and let her frail, white hand come to rest over his. "Bobby," she whispered, not waiting for him to acknowledge that he heard before she continued, "I don't know what happened to your mom … and I'm not sure if you're going to tell me. But you need to realize something, Bobby. You're not alone anymore. I'm not going to run and hide at the first sign of something going wrong."

His pleading brown eyes met hers. Oh, how he wanted to believe her. But how could he? Everyone else that he'd ever told had run away … except Lewis – and he'd been with Bobby since before his mom had gotten sick. And Lewis was the only one who stayed by Bobby through everything. He didn't have anyone else. His eyes dropped to look at his hands again, unable to face Lynne any longer.

Lynne sighed at Bobby's otherwise lack of response and moved so she was sitting in his lap so she was eyelevel with him. She took his face in both of her hands, making him look up at her. Her clear eyes looked into his with fierce sincerity as she whispered, "I'm _not_ going _anywhere_, Bobby. I love you too much to do that to you."

Slowly, so slowly neither was really sure if it was gravity moving them together or something else, their breaths mingled together, green eyes met brown, comforting and reassuring the pain and loneliness. Soft, pliable lips met their counterparts in a sensuous kiss that seared the minds of both detective and designer.

"Lynne …" Bobby groaned as their lips parted and the need for oxygen became too great.

She breathed heavily, trying to regain her composure after the kiss. Her chest heaved up and down, the silk fabric of her shirt tightening seductively around the curve of her breasts, and barely touching Bobby's own chest. "Bobby?" she questioned, "Is this what you want?" Despite the very evident arousal she could feel pressing against her, she had to know if it was something he'd regret in the morning.

"Yes," was his breathless reply as he leaned forward to kiss the inviting stretch of skin just below Lynne's right ear.

"Then stop thinking so much," she moaned as his hot lips met her cool skin.

---

For the first time in years Bobby didn't wake up feeling empty or cold. There was a warm body molded into his, but it wasn't one of his normal 'bed warmers'. The scent that invaded his nostrils was soft, French vanilla musk and a hint of mint soap. So feminine, so familiar, so comforting. He opened his eyes and smiled slightly, as he realized that the previous night hadn't been a dream. His arm tightened around her slim body, bringing her back into complete contact with his chest. He glanced at the clock to check the time and noticed with relief that it was only six-thirty in the morning – still plenty of time to wake up and get ready for work.

Lynne stirred, mumbling something in her half awake state as the light streamed in from her window. She turned over, so she was facing the man who had so firmly ensconced her into his arms. With a lazy, sleepy smile she whispered, "Good morning, Bobby."

"Morning, Lynne," he replied with an equally smug smile.

She cocked her head to one side, revealing teeth marks Bobby had left on her pale, slender neck the night before. He brought a hand up to gently stroke the mark and Lynne made a sound remarkably like purring as she closed her eyes in contentment.

"Did you mean what you said last night?" Bobby asked, his voice low and uncertain.

Lynne's eyes opened and she narrowed her eyes at him, "About me loving you?" He nodded slightly, afraid what had happened the night before was a one-time thing. Her eyes narrowed into sharp slits and she hit the back of his head with her hand.

"Ow, what was that for?" Bobby asked, backing away from the now irritated woman.

"I don't work that way, Bobby," Lynne said, heedless of her nude body as she sat up in the bed and advanced on the detective. "I _don't_ lie – especially to you. That was the first time I've had sex since I've been in the city."

Bobby caught her in his arms and stopped the onslaught of words the best way he knew how – with his lips. When they pulled apart, he said, "I love you, too."

A few minutes later, they finally got out of bed. Lynne put on her robe, and headed toward her bedroom door, where she stopped and turned around to study Bobby as he gathered his clothes. "I'm going to take a shower," she said with a smile. "Care to join me and help conserve water?"

---

When Bobby and Lynne left for their respective jobs later that morning, both were wearing grins that all would notice and only some would know the reason for. Lynne walked onto the ninth floor of the Armani building and immediately her secretary, Natalie Schultz, knew why her boss was so happy.

"Did you and Bobby finally screw each other?" Natalie asked as Lynne came by to pick up any messages waiting for her.

Lynne's eyes widened in horror at Natalie's word choice, "Natalie!" But, of course, the blush that rose in her cheeks was evidence that Natalie's words were correct.

The older woman laughed, "No need to be such a prude about it, Lynne. Bobby's hot stuff. I'm glad you two finally took that step."

Lynne sighed and shook her head, "You know, I'm not really sure how it happened. He came over looking worn out and terrified as hell, just needing to be near me, I guess. … He didn't even want to talk about it."

"So, what happened?" Natalie prodded further, "You jumped him?"

The designer furrowed her brow, "Sort of. Of course, we woke up this morning and he started questioning me about it all and … I felt the sudden urge to slap some sense into him."

"Did it work?"

"I think so," Lynne said truthfully. "Tonight will tell, anyway. I have plans for dinner with him and the rest of my guys."

Natalie, who had worked as Lynne's secretary ever since she got promoted to the head of the business department, smiled again, "I really don't know how you lasted as long as you did, surrounded by all those cops – unattached, _straight_ men with muscles and badges. I couldn't have done it."

Lynne raised her eyebrows at Natalie, "Is that why I heard from one of them that you've been seeing Mitch Stevens for the past four months?" she asked innocently.

Now it was Natalie's turn to blush, "Don't you have work to do, Ms. Andrews?"

Lynne's grin was back as she laughed and walked into her office.

---

Bobby suffered a similar (but a deal more manly) conversation/interrogation from his partner of the month, Joe Rothman, when it was around noun. "Joe, you know it's really _none_ of your business," Bobby finally said after Joe commented on how good Lynne must have been in bed.

Just then, Bobby noticed Lynne walking toward them, as Joe said, "Jeez, Bobby, no need to get so defensive 'bout it. She's a hot dame, I'll give ya that. Ya know, my woman can't hold a candle to Lynne's curves."

"Joe, your mouth's gonna get you into trouble some day," Bobby said, knowing that Lynne heard the last comment the other detective had made by the way her face changed from one of happiness to stone cold anger.

Calmly she approached Joe and Bobby's joined desks and tapped Joe on the shoulder. He turned around and was shocked to find the woman he had just been talking about looming over him with a deadly look on her face. "Hi, Lynne," he said weakly.

Lynne's smile was as cold as her eyes, "You're very lucky it was me and not your wife to walk up just now, Joe. And for your information, the next time I hear you call me – or any other woman - a 'dame', I'll make sure you never have a problem with your pants being too tight ever again. And no, that's not a threat, simply a promise." She stood straight, adjusted her dress so it was even, and smiled at Bobby, "Ready for lunch?"

Bobby nodded, it was all he could do not to laugh at the look of utter terror on Joe's face as he gathered his things and headed toward the elevator with Lynne. It wasn't until Bobby and Lynne were inside the elevator that they couldn't control their laughter anymore. By the time they arrived at the lobby, however, both were cool and collected again.

"Where are we going for lunch?" Bobby asked as they got into Lynne's classic, 1963 Volvo. It was a very nice car, kept up as a pet project of Lynne's and Bobby's friend and one of the best mechanics on classic cars, Lewis.

Lynne's smile was full of mischief as she started the car, "It's a surprise."

"Oh, come on, Lynne!" Bobby whined.

She glanced at him as she pulled into traffic, "Don't make me blindfold you, Bobby."

He leaned close to her and whispered in her ear, "Only if I get to handcuff you later."

She shivered involuntarily, a naughty grin surfacing on her face as she continued to drive toward her house. Her worries about the transition between 'just friends' and 'boyfriend/girlfriend' blown out of her mind with the feel of Bobby's breath heating her neck just before his hot lips met the cool skin.

* * *

A/N: So? Do they make a good couple? Please review. 


	5. Major Case

A/N: Bobby's transfer to Major Case. I know that the show leads us to believe Alex gets there first, but in this, she makes Detective First-Grade right before going to Vice and she transfers out of Vice right before getting to Major Case and Bobby. This is mostly Lynne.

* * *

Bobby strode into Lynne's office, his eyes intense as he subconsciously took in the placement of everything – all normal – in her outer office before bursting through the door that lead to her inner realm. 

Lynne was working on more of the never-ending paperwork that came with her managerial position, when Bobby walked through the doors. She looked up sharply, wondering what had happened to her boyfriend of six months to make him so excited, "Bobby?" she asked, "What is it?"

The detective looked at her with a smile. "I got it," he whispered, a small smile forming on his boyish face until it grew into a full-fledged grin, "You are now looking at Detective First-Grade Robert Goren, _Major Case Squad_."

Lynne's grin mirrored Bobby's as she got up and walked slowly over to her boyfriend, "You got it?"

Bobby nodded, taking Lynne into his arms in a fierce hug, "I got it."

Their passionate kiss was interrupted by a knock on the door. It opened and Natalie stuck her head in, "I hope you two plan on stopping that soon – it's making for _quite_ a show through the window. Congratulations on the promotion, Bobby."

"Thanks, Natalie," Bobby said, smirking as he let go of Lynne and looked at her like a little boy who just found out Santa was real.

Lynne returned his grin, "Don't make any plans for tonight or Saturday."

"Why?" Bobby asked, a little confused.

She gave him a heated, lusty look as she replied, "Because tonight _we_ get to celebrate your transfer," her little pink tongue came out to lick her lips seductively, causing Bobby to groan with desire as he walked forward and took her in his arms again, pressing his hardness into her stomach.

"And Saturday?" he whispered, his voice gravelly and low.

Lynne's smile turned from seductive to pleased as she said, "That's for me to throw you a party to celebrate with all our friends."

"I don't have any friends, Lynne," Bobby said with a look.

"What about Max and Lewis?" she asked, her eyes providing a challenge for him. "They're not your friends?"

"They're my buddies," Bobby explained, as if there was a fine line between friend and buddy that neither of the men crossed, "Max and Lewis are buddies. I drink beer with them, talk about guy things … they're not friends."

Lynne thought back to when Bobby had told her that Lewis was the only one who'd stayed with him after his mom's illness took root. She wasn't about to bring up Francis Goren to Bobby, but the look in her eye was enough to make Bobby rethink his choice of words and terminology.

Without waiting for an answer from him Lynne said, "Just be at my apartment at six – and be thankful I'm not going to tell Lewis what you called him."

---

Lynne glared at the paper in her hand. Why the _hell_ was she holding a printed out email that informed her that half the guys from Major Case couldn't make it to her party? Did they think she was joking about it? Hell no! They were coming – even if she had to twist their arms and cut off their meager supply of Armani to get them to come.

After having called Jimmy Deakins in advance to get the three men in an interrogation room (so that Jimmy could watch the scene and laugh at his detectives for trying to get out of something like one of Lynne's parties), Lynne headed down toward One Police Plaza in her car (fresh from Lewis's garage, where the engine was replaced and other repair work done). On the drive she appeared calm and collected, the only noticeable sign that she was angry at all was the throbbing vein on her jaw.

When she arrived at the eleventh floor, where the Major Case Squad bullpen was located, Lynne found Captain Deakins waiting for her. He motioned for her to follow him toward the interrogation rooms. They came to a stop in front of one, where he turned to her and said, "They've been in there for about ten minutes, working up a sweat trying to figure out what they did."

Lynne nodded, a smirk flittering across her face, "Good." Noting his look of anxiety, Lynne reassured him, "Don't worry, Jimmy, I'll leave them in one piece."

Jimmy nodded, "They may deserve to be maimed, Lynne, but the paperwork would be hell if you did something like that."

At that Lynne grinned, giving a wink to the older man who was so much like a father to her. Hell of a lot better than her own father had been to her. She sashayed her hips in a purely feminine motion as she walked toward the door, "Don't worry, Jimmy. I'll help you fill it out."

Jimmy only let his laughter out when Lynne was in the interrogation room, and he was watching from the observation room. Man, he wished he had some popcorn…

---

The three men waiting for Lynne in the interrogation room were met not with the smiling Lynne of a few moments before, but with the cold faced Lynne that somehow had the power to scare the shit out of any male detective, no matter their tenure. Her walk was deliberate, graceful and fierce. Like a lioness stalking her prey in the Sahara. The click of her heals, normally a sound to bring a smile to their faces, was now the clanging of the bell on the church, signaling an execution. They were _petrified_.

Lynne held up the paper in her hands, where she had printed off all three emails from the men, "Care to explain this to me, Detectives? Hmm?"

None of them spoke, causing her to look all of them dead in the eye with a look of utter anger and disappointment. "Now, now, don't be shy, Detective Dylan. It's not like you're alone in here with me. That goes for you too, Detective Astor, Detective Pearle. You all committed the same sin."

At that, Detective Ryan Astor, a very religious man, started, "Now wait a minute, Lynne! I don't know how refusing an invitation to a party is a _sin_. As it so happens I have other plans that night."

Lynne's cold eyes softened a bit, the light green they turned when she was angry darkening as she lost some of the flame of temper, "What plans?"

Ryan, a recently divorced man, looked down, "My ex is finally letting me have the kids for a weekend. I don't wanna leave 'em with a sitter the first day I have 'em back."

The anger Lynne had for this man left her. "Okay, Ryan," she whispered. "But bring your girls by my place sometime on Saturday – I have something I think they'd like. You can go back to work."

Ryan smiled slightly, not envying the other two men in the slightest for having to face Lynne's anger. He knew for a fact neither of them had such a great (and plausible – not to mention truthful) reason for missing the party. And Lynne had a thing against people judging their co-workers based off rumors and what precinct they worked at. Thank the Lord he realized this and actually got along pretty well with Bobby Goren.

Lynne turned her attention back to the other two detectives, "The _one_ thing I asked of you guys was to not judge each other by rumors – and to not pass judgment until you'd taken the time to know someone. Neither of you have taken the time to do that with Bobby. If you don't come on Saturday, you're both out. No Armani – no mending, nothing. Got it?"

"I have a date," both men said simultaneously, still trying to get out of going to the big detective's party that neither wanted to go to.

Her eyes returned to the cold, light green they were before Ryan had left, "_Then bring them!_" she shouted at them in a voice so fierce both men were nodding and promising to be there at six-thirty on the dot with their dates.

Lynne nodded once before leaving again. It wasn't exactly like she could afford to take the whole day off work. There were things that needed to be done.

Anthony Dylan turned to look at his partner, Sean Pearle. "Great, now I've gotta find a date for Saturday!"

When Deakins saw them later that day, to check up on how things were coming with their latest case, it was all he could do not to laugh.

---

Lynne sighed as she got into her office. She had just collapsed in her chair when the head of the woman's eveningwear line came in. Lynne put on a fake smile and greeted the woman she had never gotten along with, "Kelly, what can I do for you?"

Kelly, a woman of about thirty-five, with graying mouse brown hair and an old looking face that lacked all traces of anything but age and worry, nodded once, "One of my models for today's photo shoot is sick. I can't find a replacement with the same body type."

"Who's sick?" Lynne asked. _Please, oh, please, don't be Kara_, she thought. Kara was one of the younger models – with the exact same shape and size as Lynne.

"Kara." Kelly brought her hands out from behind her back to reveal a garment bag, "Please, Lynne? We can't postpone it. It's just three outfits."

Lynne sighed. Great, this was _just_ what she needed: to be stuck at a photo shoot for a line that wasn't even in her department playing dress-up and "Look sexy now. The camera's your lover." So _not_ her idea of fun.

"Why don't you get Tina to do it?" she finally asked. Tina was one of the models Lynne used in the photos with her cops. She was very good at making them feel sexy in the suits. She was about the same size as Kara, and loved modeling.

Kelly shook her head, "I can't get a hold of her."

The department head looked at the clock – it was almost one. She seemed to remember Tina and Emil hitting it off in their last shoot together … maybe he'd know where the model was. She dialed Emil Casovick's number and waited, "Hi, Emil. It's Lynne. Is Tina with you, by any chance? … Can I talk to her? … Hi, Tina-doll … No, no, nothing's wrong. It's just that Kara's sick and I was wondering if you would mind filling in for her this afternoon at a shoot … No, it's a women's eveningwear shoot," she put her hand over the mouthpiece and turned to Kelly, "What time?"

"Four," Kelly whispered back.

"Four. Is that okay, Tina? … Great, thank you so much. Kelly says thanks, too … Oh, are you coming with Emil to the party for Bobby on Saturday? … Excellent, see you then, Tina. Bye." Lynne hung up the phone and turned to the other designer, "There you go. Tina will be there at four."

"Thank you, Lynne. What happened to Bobby?" Kelly asked, curiously. It was the talk of the water cooler that Lynne was dating the handsome detective she met three and a half years before.

The younger woman shrugged, "He got a promotion and a transfer. I'm throwing him a party Saturday night if you want to come. Actually … a lot of cute, single guys will be there, Kelly."

Kelly started to shake her head, "I'm not much for dating, Lynne. Thanks anyway."

"Come on, Kelly, they're really nice. I can guarantee you a good time."

Kelly glared at her, "How?"

Lynne grinned, "I happen to know that Sammy Kurtz has been eying you when you watch our photo shoots. He's a good guy, Kelly. Single, no kids, Detective First-Grade in the homicide unit out of Manhattan. I think you'd like him."

"Lynne, you know how much I hate being set up," Kelly complained.

"If you don't like him, I'll send Lennie Briscoe your way to get Sammy off your back, okay? And if you don't have fun, you can leave."

Kelly nodded, "Okay."

As she left that night to go meet Bobby for dinner, Lynne was thinking how great this transfer to Major Case would be good for everyone.

* * *

A/N: So? What do you guys think? Please review and tell me! 


	6. Ministry of Love

A/N: This one moves fast so please, stay in your seats at all times. Due to the short duration of our flight today, there will be no complimentary beverages or snacks, and it is recommended that a box of tissues is at hand. Enjoy the flight.

* * *

"How's Major Case going, Bobby?" Lynne asked as the couple sat down in his apartment after work a few weeks later. 

Bobby smiled softly, "The guys who went to the party are being … receptive enough to me being there, but there's still a lot of … other stuff happening."

"Rumors?" Lynne asked hesitantly. She wanted the truth – and wanted to know what he was going through … but sometimes it was just so hard to resist the urge to beat the crap out of some of the men who started those insane rumors about Bobby. Her 'favorite' had been the one that went around that claimed the only reason Deakins accepted Bobby's transfer to Major Case because of Lynne.

He nodded, "Yeah. Astor does his best to discourage the rumors – it probably helps that he's my partner and my solve rate is his solve rate … but a lot of them like to talk about how crazy my methods are for solving cases."

Lynne shook her head, "They're idiots, Bobby."

The buzzer rang and Bobby frowned in confusion, "The guy at the Thai place said it would be an hour for the food, right?"

Lynne nodded, "That was half an hour ago."

The buzzer rang again, this time more insistent. Bobby pressed the button to see who it was, "Yeah?"

"Bobby, it's me, let me up, man," an unfamiliar male voice said at the other end.

"Me, who?" Bobby asked – he had an idea who the man was, but he wanted to be sure before he did anything like buzz them into the building.

"It's _Billy_! You're older brother!" the other man nearly shouted.

Bobby cast a fervent look at Lynne before pressing the button again, "What'd you want, Billy? I already told you where Mom is if you want to see her."

"I don't want to see Mom," the other man snapped, "I want to talk to _you_."

Lynne put her hand on Bobby's shoulder, feeling the tense muscles beneath his shirt she leaned down and whispered, "I'll hang out in the bedroom. Just call me if you need me."

"Thanks, Lynne," Bobby said, giving her a small kiss before buzzing his brother into the apartment building. As Billy made his way up the stairs to Bobby's apartment, Lynne picked up the few things of hers that would reveal that she was there in the first place, so Bobby wouldn't be in an awkward position of explaining who Lynne was to his brother.

Bobby opened his apartment door when his brother knocked. Billy, four years older than Bobby and small and wiry like their mother, had a smirk on his face as he said, "Hello, little brother."

Bobby glared at him, "What do you want, Billy?"

Billy sighed, running his hand through his hair in a manner very similar to Bobby, "I need some help."

Bobby snorted, "You mean some money. Forget it, Billy. I'm not helping you out again. You got yourself into this mess, get yourself out."

"Bobby, it's different this time!" Billy tried to reason with his younger brother, who was at least twice his size.

"Like hell it is!" Bobby nearly shouted. "I said _no_."

Lynne furrowed her brow as she listened from the bedroom door to the conversation between the two brothers taking place in the living room. Billy was family to Bobby – the only family besides his mom that he had. Why wouldn't he help him?

"Bobby, please, this won't turn out like last time," Billy tried to reason with him.

"Like hell it won't. Last time _five_ good cops died trying to get you out of trouble, Bill. _Five_! There's no way in _hell_ I'm going to risk that happening again."

"This time it's a lone shark, Bobby."

Bobby's muscles tightened as he digested his brother's words. In a deceivingly calm manner he turned to look at the smaller man and said, "Get the hell out of my apartment, Billy. I said no."

Without another word, Billy left. When she heard the door slam shut, Lynne immerged from the bedroom to find Bobby sitting on the sofa, his head drooped in his hands.

Slowly she approached him, resting her hand on his massive shoulder as she sat next to him. "Hey," she whispered, "You okay?"

He shook his head, "No. But I will be if you keep that up."

She smiled, leaning into him – he'd be okay.

---

Three weeks later, Lynne had all but forgotten about Bobby's brother, Billy, when she left Bobby's apartment for work. She got into a cab, like always, and gave him the address of the Armani building. After giving the driver the address, she sat back and watched the life of New York City.

A frown formed on Lynne's face when she realized they were going the wrong way, "Hey! The Armani Building's the other way!"

The man glanced back at her and in a gruff, East-European accented voice said, "Who said we're going to the Armani Building, Mary Lynne?" One of his hands shot back and before she could react he'd injected her leg with something. Lynne's head rolled to one side and within moments she was passed out.

---

"Goren," the detective answered his cell phone as he investigated the newest crime scene.

"We have your girlfriend," the unfamiliar voice, distorted through what sounded like a Darth Vader Halloween mask, said. "She's been very … accommodating."

Goren abruptly stood and started walking to the edge of the crime scene, causing the CSU personnel assigned to the scene to glare at him. "What?" he asked the unknown person on the other end.

"Yes, that's right, Detective Goren. We have your precious Mary Lynne."

"Why?" Bobby asked, fervently trying to search for some reason why someone would kidnap _Lynne_ – the best woman he'd ever met and the only other person besides his mother who loved him.

"Ask your brother. Just remember: the longer it takes you, the more fun we get to have with her."

The line went dead and Bobby felt a ton of bricks drop on his stomach. His partner, Ryan Astor, (who was set to retire at exactly the end of the week) frowned in concern at the younger detective as he walked over to him.

"Bobby? You okay, man?" Astor asked as he walked up.

Bobby shook his head, looking at his partner with distraught eyes he said, "Lynne's been kidnapped. We've gotta get back to One PP."

The younger detective started dialing a number on his phone as he and Ryan ran toward their SUV.

"Deakins."

"It's Goren, Captain. Lynne's been kidnapped. I need someone to go to the Starlight Motel and find my brother – William Goren."

"I'll put Valdez and Gunter on it. We'll get her back, Bobby."

"But will she still be in one piece?"

---

It wasn't just Bobby and Ryan who were anxious to find Lynne. No, the entire Major Case Squad (not to mention the 2-7, and Manhattan's Narcotics unit) were _all_ very anxious to find her and bring her home. The NYPD was in a frenzy when William Goren was brought in for questioning by his own brother.

Billy looked down at his hands as the detectives watched him closely. "Do you know why you're here?" Valdez asked the man who reminded him of the big detective watching from the observation room.

Billy nodded and Valdez then asked, "What's the name of your lone shark?"

"He's not _my_ lone shark," Billy snapped. "It was either borrow money from him or be indebted to the guy I was playing with."

"Who were you playing with?"

Billy looked away, unable to face the accusers. Before Valdez could react, the door opened and in stormed the very angry brother of the man in questioning. Bobby leaned into his older brother and said, "You _will_ tell us what happened, Billy. You _will_ tell us who the lone shark is – _and_ who you were playing poker with that night." Bobby's eyebrows rose and his eyes grew big, "And if Lynne is returned either dead or traumatized there will be _nothing_ that you'll be able to do to get away from the revenge we will have in store, Billy."

The older man gulped, knowing that his brother wasn't bluffing. Bobby continued, "Lynne's _not_ just my girlfriend, idiot. She also happens to be good friends with half of the detectives in Manhattan – _including_ the Chief of Detectives _and_ the Commissioner!"

"Once again, I'll ask: Who's the lone shark?" Valdez calmly questioned, taking the antics of the much larger Goren in stride.

"Danny. Danny Piero," Billy said, his voice drawn and quiet in the face of his younger brother's words and threats. He really didn't like who he was – but no matter what he tried he kept on getting into trouble.

Bobby swore at his brother, "The _Demolitioner_! What the hell is wrong with you, Billy? That guy has a rap sheet as long as the Jersey Shore and you _borrowed money from him_! Who the hell were you up against in that game?"

"A Masucci. One of the younger ones."

Bobby Goren swore again as he charged at his older brother, lifting the smaller man up by his shirt collar he backed him into the wall. "If they so much as _touch_ her, Billy, I will never forgive you and you'll never be safe in New York again."

Bobby let him drop to the floor. The big detective left the interrogation room as suddenly as he had come.

Back at his desk he found two people waiting there that he really didn't want to face at the moment – Natalie Schultz and Michael Andrews. Natalie looked at the big detective with frightened eyes, "Where's Lynne? She didn't come into work this morning. She didn't call in, either."

Bobby's sorrowful eyes met the frightened woman's before turning to Michael and saying, "Half the police force on Manhattan is looking for her. I'm so sorry."

Michael closed his eyes as he tried to remain calm. "She was kidnapped?"

"Yes."

"By who?"

"A lone shark trying to get his money back."

At that Mike's eyes snapped open and he said, "She never borrowed money from a lone shark – no one in our family has."

"My brother," Bobby answered. "He put me down as a way for them to get their money back if he was unable to pay."

"Oh, God," Natalie said, starting to pace. She turned to Bobby, "Is she going to be all right? You'll find her, right?"

"I – I don't know," Bobby finally said. "I hope so." He wasn't sure what he'd do if she didn't turn out all right.

---

Lynne refused to make a sound as they tormented her. She refused to give them that satisfaction. She knew why she was there: Bobby's brother and that damn lone shark he borrowed money from, but she _refused_ to give in.

All she wanted was to see her brother again; to have Bobby hold her close and chase everything bad away. She wanted to feel loved again, and protected. But all she could feel was cold abandonment that she thought she'd never have to feel again.

When the knife cut her flesh on the third day of her capture, she bit her lips until they bled to stop the cries of pain. No matter what they did, she refused to let the faceless, nameless monsters know that they got to her.

Where the hell was Bobby? Where the hell were all of her friends at the NYPD? Where were they?

It was day four of her torment when she finally heard the sounds she'd been waiting to hear forever since her eternity in hell started: police gunfire. It was one of the advantages to being a cop's girlfriend: he made sure she knew the different types of guns and the different sounds they made.

Soon she was engulfed in white light as the blindfold that had been her constant companion for four days was removed. She bit back a cry of pain as the light hit her sensitive eyes.

"Lynne?" a hesitant voice asked as she felt a cool hand touch her cheek. It was a familiar hand and she leaned into it.

A sob escaped her parched lips as she whispered, "Bobby?"

Bobby wanted to hold her close and never let go, but unfortunately, he felt the tackiness of her skin right above her abdomen and he knew he had to get her to the hospital. With arms grateful to be able to hold her once again, he picked her up. "Come on, baby," he said, "I've gotta get you to the ambulance."

Lynne's arms instinctively wrapped around Bobby's neck as she buried her face into his shoulder and he carried her out of her hell hole. She didn't know how they found her – and she didn't really care. They found her and she was going to go home again. With Bobby.

---

The knife wound on her lower stomach was caused by a rusty knife and infected. The doctors said it was a miracle she wasn't more severely injured, but they wanted to keep her for a week just to make sure.

Bobby refused to leave her side for anything other than work. The nurses and doctors soon learned to work around the big detective as he stayed by the petite woman's side through the night and well into the mornings. Bobby couldn't help but feel responsible as he saw Lynne laying there – her hair muted instead of the vibrant auburn he loved so much; her skin faded and dull. Her eyes were listless and he didn't need a doctor or a rape kit to tell him what had been done to her by those monsters. The only satisfaction he got was from the fact that none of them had escaped – all were in custody.

"Have you ever read 1984?" Lynne asked on the first night after they had found her. Her eyes were closed and Bobby had been holding her hand as he watched her sleep.

"Yes," he answered softly, unsure where she was going with her comment.

Her eyes remained closed as she focused on the feel of Bobby's fingers running up and down her left arm softly. "Remember in the beginning, when Winston is describing the government of Oceania? Remember what he said about the Ministry of Love?"

"Yes," Bobby responded, not liking where Lynne was going with her words, but glad to hear her talk to him at all.

Her eyes finally opened and he saw the tears her deep green orbs held in. "That's what it felt like," she finally whispered.

He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles softly, "I'm so sorry."

Her face turned away, unable to give him the reassurance he needed that it was going to be all right. Just as the Ministry of Love had been a fortress for executing and torturing anyone who committed the unreal crime of doublethink, Lynne's soul had been tortured and executed for committing no crime at all.

* * *

A/N: So? Tell me what you think, please! I know I could have drawn this one out, but more will be explained in the next one-shot about Lynne. Once again, any suggestions, comments or ideas may be submitted to me via the little purple-ish/blue button on the bottom left of the screen that says 'Submit Review'. 


	7. Back to Normal

A/N: This takes place right after 'Ministry of Love' ended. It's the start of Lynne's journey to get her life back after the kidnapping.

* * *

Lynne had been in the hospital four days, with Bobby constantly coming by to check on her despite the constant issues with the kidnapping, when someone other than a cop or coworker came by to see her.

Michael poked his head into his sister's hospital room, watching her sketch something in her notepad. "Hey, sis," he said with a small smile.

Lynne looked up, her smile brief before it waned from existence, "Hi, Mike. How's things?" Michael couldn't help but notice the lack of shine in Lynne's eyes and her features. Bobby had told him that she was taking it badly … but this was too much. She looked listless. Too much like she had before New York.

"Up for some visitors?" Michael asked, drawing his attention back to the task at hand.

"Sure, why not?" Lynne responded, dropping her pencil and closing the notepad with a resigned air.

Michael walked in, closely followed by another man who bore the Andrews family resemblance and a woman about thirty-eight with graying black hair who was holding a five-year-old girl.

Lynne's smile was a little less force this time as tears filled her eyes. "Paul," she said, her voice weak with emotion as she moved the sketchpad and pencil before sitting up to give her oldest brother the strongest hug she could. For the first time since her kidnapping, as Lynne held onto her brother with all her strength, as if he could take away all her pain and suffering, she cried.

Paul moved to sit down on the hospital bed beside his sole living sister. He held her close, cooing her, as he rubbed small, comforting circles on her back like he had when she was a little girl. "I'm here now," he repeated as the tears flowing from her eyes slowed in magnitude. "I'm here now, Doll, I'm here now."

When Lynne's tears had finally stopped, she released Paul with a wince and leaned back onto the pillows. One of her hands migrated to her abdomen and the white-hot pain emanating from the knife wound there. Paul and Michael immediately noticed the change in Lynne's expression and the younger brother paged the nurse on duty.

Soon Lynne's IV drip contained more pain medication and the soreness eased to a mild ache well within her range to cope. She turned her face to the black-haired woman and the little girl. "Is that little Amy?" she asked with a far-away look in her eye.

The woman nodded as her daughter said, "I'm Amelia!"

Lynne chuckled softly, her hand seeking comfort from Paul's. "Of course you are, sweetie. Of course."

"We came as soon as we could," Paul told his sister. "Michael called us when you went missing, but Mom was taking a turn for the worst and we had to stay with her until she was stabilized. I almost sent Madeline and Amelia without me. Doll … what happened to you?"

Lynne was about to answer when she saw a familiar shadow fall across the doorway of her room. She moaned softly as she adjusted her position on the bed before saying, "Bobby, get your butt in here right now."

Bobby sheepishly shuffled into the room, his detective nature taking in the unknown people warily. He smiled softly at Lynne as he approached the bed and her outstretched arm, the IV sticking out of it as a constant reminder of what she had gone through. His larger fingers wrapped around hers as he sat down in the chair by her bedside that had become known as his chair.

"This is my brother, Paul Matthew, his wife, Madeline and their daughter, Amy."

"Amelia!" the little girl protested again.

Lynne smiled at the little girl's antics before turning to her and asking, "Do you know why I call you Amy?"

"No," she said, her little brow furrowed in agitation.

"Because Amelia was the name of someone who was very close to me," Lynne told the little girl, "And saying her name reminds me of what happened to her. _Amy_, however, is the name of your great-grandma. Do you know what she did?"

The little girl, with the same auburn locks as her aunt, shook her head, eager to hear what her Great-Grandma Amy had done. Lynne's smile became stronger as she was reminded of happier times in her childhood. "She worked for the President of the United States and was a Suffragette. Do you know what that means?"

This time the little girl nodded, "Mommy told me that the Suffrawjetts helped all the little girls in the U.S. so that I can be the Pres'dent when I'm big 'nough."

Lynne chuckled again, "That's right, Amy. That's what they wanted."

"They wanted me to be Pres'dent when I'm big 'nough?" Amy asked incredulously with wide eyes.

"You betcha," Lynne responded. Bobby watched her interaction with the little girl closely, noting how for a few blessed moments Lynne's mind wasn't on the evil events of the past week, but completely focused on the little girl named Amelia but would forever after insist on being called Amy.

Lynne's eyes were drooping, due to the time released sedative she was on. Bobby squeezed her hand again leaning over to whisper, "You're safe now. They're not going to hurt you anymore."

She nodded softly as she tried to fight off the sleep long enough to whisper, "Don't leave me, Bobby."

"Never," he whispered in reply as medication induced sleep claimed her once more.

Madeline looked at her sister-in-law, only remembering once before where she looked so frail and weak. She then turned to her daughter, knowing her husband and brother-in-law wanted a chance to talk to Bobby alone, "Come on, sweetie. Let's go find the cafeteria."

"Can I get some chocolate cake?" Amy asked, her eyes wide.

Madeline smiled, "If they have some." She nodded to the three men before leaving with the little girl safely in her arms.

Michael smiled genuinely to Bobby, "Thanks for staying with her, Bobby."

The cop shook his head. "I couldn't leave her alone," he said as he watched Lynne sleep the drug induced sleep meant to heal her broken body.

"What happened?" Paul finally asked. "All I got was some sketchy details from Michael and Lynne's assistant…"

"Natalie," Bobby supplied. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair as he got up to pace the private room; "My brother stupidly enough borrowed money from one of the Masucci's pet lone sharks and came to me to bail him out when he couldn't pay on time. Lynne got caught in the crossfire of the lone shark trying to get his money back from the wrong Goren."

Paul's face became contorted in a scowl. "She was raped by those bastards," it was a statement, not a question. Michael had already told his older brother of the state they had found Mary Lynne in.

Bobby nodded mutely, anger clouding his sight of anything other than the prone woman lying helplessly on the bed.

"Did you get them?" Paul asked after a few moments of tense silence.

"Yeah … we got the grunts responsible for this. Put the case on the stack of things the Masucci's are being held responsible for. It's considered closed," a man said from the doorway to Lynne room.

Bobby's head jerked up to look at Captain Deakins. He nodded once, inviting the older couple into the room. Angie immediately went to Lynne's bedside and kissed her forehead lightly.

"Michael," Deakins said with a nod, "Sorry I couldn't make it sooner. You must be Paul." Jimmy's hand reached out for the younger man's, "Jimmy Deakins. This is my wife, Angie."

Paul nodded, shaking the older man's hand, "I know who you are. Lynne's very fond of both of you. Thank you."

Jimmy smiled slightly as his wife said, "No need, sonny. Lynne has been a blessing to us in her own right. Our daughters are very attached to her."

Deakins turned to his detective, "Bobby … look, I really hate to do this but the Commissioner specifically requested you."

Bobby closed his eyes in resignation before asking, "What happened?"

"Triple homicide with very little physical evidence. The German Ambassador's wife found the bodies of their three maids when she got home from shopping with a friend."

Goren nodded, mutely. Opening his eyes he leaned in to squeeze Lynne's hand as she slept and kiss her nose lightly before getting up to meet his partner at the crime scene. Damn the Commissioner to hell.

Jimmy watched the younger man leave the room with a deflated, resigned air about him. He felt like such an ass for giving him the homicide so soon after Lynne's brush with death – but the Commissioner had been _very_ clear about whom he wanted on the case. Deakins' hands were tied.

Angie's smile was worried as she looked at the three men in the room and the prone woman sleeping on the bed. "Don't worry so much, Jimmy," she finally said. "Bobby's a good boy. If he knows Lynne's going to be all right, he'll do his job." She saw Lynne's doctor enter the room and Angie asked, "She _is_ going to be all right, isn't she?"

Dr. Novak nodded as she walked into the room. "Lynne should be fine … at least physically. As for mentally, I can't say. She's suffered a lot of trauma this past week." She halted, unsure how to phrase her next questions. She turned to the man she knew was Lynne's younger brother, Michael (he had power of attorney and had been the one to fill out all her forms), "When we were collecting the samples for the rape kit, and prepping for surgery to repair the damage to her abdomen, I noticed some scar tissue that hadn't healed properly."

Michael went white and turned to Paul to let him answer the unspoken question. The older man, having been thirteen when Lynne was born, was much better able to answer the questions about Lynne's medical past. "She was raped when she was twelve," he said, his voice a quiet rumble as he looked at his sister with regret and protectiveness. "Our father … he didn't want her taken to the hospital. It was all I could do to get her out of that house."

Dr. Novak nodded, leaving the matter at that. She checked her file and then reported, "Well, she seems to be healing properly now. The infection has died down and if she continues to improve she can be out of here in a few days."

"How many is a few?" Michael asked, needing to know what to tell the others waiting anxiously to have their Lynne back.

Novak shrugged, "At the least? Two. I'll just need to make sure she'll be under the constant supervision of someone who knows how to administer her pain meds properly, and that there won't be any other consequences from the surgery and she'll be good to go. She was very lucky. That knife wound … if you hadn't rescued her when you did. Even twelve hours later and she might not be here now."

Deakins nodded, "Thank you, Doctor."

---

The day after Lynne was released from the hospital, four days later because Dr. Novak wanted to be absolutely positive that she was getting the right dose of pain medication, she walked into the bullpen of the Major Case Squad to give her verbal account of what had happened. When Valdez had tried to get her statement earlier, Bobby had nearly ripped him to shreds. Now there was no putting it off.

She walked into the bullpen with Paul by her side (Michael was getting a costume fitted to him for his upcoming play). Everyone stopped when they saw her standing there, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a car and ready to bolt at the first sign of danger or uncertainty.

Then Carolyn Sparre, Mitch Stevens' partner, walked up to Lynne and embraced her tightly in relief. "Thank God," Carolyn whispered into Lynne's hair as the other woman hugged her just as fiercely. "We've been so worried."

"I know," Lynne whispered in response. "I've missed you."

Carolyn finally let Lynne go and soon the woman just recently released from the hospital was bombarded with eighteen men and women demanding a hug of their own to insure that she was really and truly all right.

Deakins saw the scene taking place in his squad room and couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head. His detectives could be so … endearing at times. They knew how much Lynne needed their support right then and they didn't care what anyone else thought that they were going to give it to her. She had somehow wormed her way into the heart of nearly everyone in the NYPD.

---

"I'm still having a little trouble being alone," Lynne confided in her psychologist, Dr. Gina Timber, on one of her visits one month after the kidnapping. "I can't get into a cab, either, unless Paul or Bobby's there with me."

Gina nodded, jotting down a note in the legal pad before her, "And what about your relationship with Bobby? You mentioned that he's been very supportive of you?"

Lynne nodded, twisting her hands into a knot as she thought about her relationship with Bobby Goren, "Yeah. He hasn't pushed me to … have sex with him again. He … he told me that he would wait until I was comfortable with the idea again." She shook her head, tears coming to her eyes, "It's just … one of them was almost as big as Bobby. I … I don't flinch when he touches me anymore, but …"

When her tears were under control she looked at her doctor with grief-stricken eyes, "It just reminds me too much of when I was a little girl. I just want the pain to stop."

Gina leaned forward, handing Lynne a prescription, "Here. I want you to fill this prescription as soon as you can, okay? Paroxetine should help you recover your center. Remember we talked about your center?"

Lynne nodded, "My center is the place I feel completely safe. Where nothing bad can happen to me and there's no such thing as pain." She took the prescription. Paroxetine Hydrochloride. "What are the side effects?"

"There are a lot … but you may have decreased appetite, trouble sleeping," Lynne snorted at that – she had yet to be able to sleep peacefully through the night, "Nausea … if they get too hard to handle, just talk to me and we'll figure something else out. Okay?"

Lynne nodded, "Okay." She got up from her seat and wiped her eyes on a tissue before turning to her doctor, "I guess I'll see you next week."

Gina stopped her as she went to leave. Giving Lynne a hug she said, "It's going to be all right, Lynne. Sooner or later you'll get there."

Lynne looked at her listlessly, "I'm not even sure I know the way," before walking out of Gina's office to the waiting men who were clustering around her in support as she tried to find her way back to "normal".

_Wherever the hell that is_, she thought as she got into the passenger seat of Bobby's SUV.

* * *

A/N: Paroxetine Hydrocholoride was what the disk jocky was given in the season premeire of Season Four. Please review and tell me what you think. They're not out of the woods yet. 


	8. Woman's Best Friend

A/N: Another day, another partner, another chapter in the life of Robert Goren.

* * *

Amy Carlson strode purposefully toward the crime scene she had just been roused from her bed at five-thirty in the morning to investigate. "What do we got?" she asked the local detective that had called in Major Case.

The detective turned and looked at her, "Male, Caucasian, early twenties. DOA – looks like an overdose."

She nodded, snapped on a pair of latex gloves and approached the victim – her partner of six weeks already investigating the scene. Goren, previously bent over the body to see the face more clearly, suddenly arose with a look of abstract horror on his face.

"What is it?" Amy asked, having never before seen her partner look so horrified.

Bobby's pain filled eyes found his partner's, "It's Michael."

Amy's eyes widened, "As in Mary Lynne Andrew's younger brother, Michael?" At his wordless nod Amy immediately got on her cell phone and called Deakins to tell him of the terribly devastating development.

---

"Why am I getting a sense of deja-vu?" Lynne asked as she walked into her living room where Bobby and Amy were waiting.

Bobby would have smiled, remembering keenly the other times he'd had to deliver bad news to Lynne about her brother in just this manner … in this very same room, to be exact. But Bobby couldn't smile. Because this wasn't like the other times - this time Mikey was dead. And so soon after Lynne had started to be weaned off the anti-depressants, too. Damn it, Michael!

"What happened?" Lynne asked, directing her questions at Amy because she knew the other woman would be able to answer in a clearer manner than the blubbering oaf that was her very sweet and considerate boyfriend.

Amy shook her head, "We don't know. He was found at the north end of Central Park at four-fifteen this morning. He OD-ed on cocaine and was dead by the time the paramedics got there."

Numbly, Lynne sat down on the sofa, her mind processing the information and her heart refusing to believe it. Mike was like a cat – he never died. Did he just spend his ninth life? Cocaine? He said he'd kicked it. HE SAID HE'D KICKED IT!!! Deep down she knew it was true, though, however much she didn't want to believe it.

She didn't know when the tears started, in fact, she didn't even realize they were falling until she suddenly felt Bobby enveloping her into one of the hugs he would gift her with as they slept, or after a passionate love making session ( before the kidnapping; Lynne still couldn't bring herself to let Bobby make love to her, even four months after she'd been released from the hospital. She was told it was normal … but she still hated it). Her sobs silently wracked her body, her head turned into his shoulder. She was mindless of the material she was mixing her tears with. Her baby brother was _dead_.

"What …" Lynne stopped as she disentangled herself from Bobby's comforting embrace, the tears having stopped, leaving red blotches in their wake, "What are you ruling it as?"

Amy shook her head, "We don't know, yet."

"Lynne," Bobby started, hesitantly, "We need you to come down to the M.E.'s office and I.D. him." At her look of utter despair he added, "We can go get Paul if you would rather not do it right now."

She shook her head, "No, I'll go," she whispered, not trusting herself to say anything more than those few words. Lynne got up to go change into something more suitable for a trip to the morgue.

---

The tears fell down Lynne's face silently as she looked at the still, dead body of her younger brother. She reached out and stroked his hair like she had so many times before when he was sick.

"What happened to you, Mikey?" she whispered, heedless of the other three people in the room. "You were clean for fourteen months. What happened?" She sobbed as she said, "You promised you wouldn't leave me." Her knees buckled beneath her and Lynne fell in a weeping heap beside the cold, metal table that held her brother's corpse.

Bobby reached down to touch her arm and she jerked away from him, preferring the empty comfort she found in her tears than the warm embrace he would offer. She didn't want to be comforted! She just wanted her brother back.

M.E. Rogers looked on at the scene, tears filling her own eyes as she watched the grieving woman rocking back and forth on her heels as she wept. Rogers thought she'd become immune to dead bodies and the living they left behind. Apparently she had been grossly mistaken.

---

None of the detectives in Major Case could believe their eyes as they saw Mary Lynne Andrews walk through the bullpen with tears streaking her face, Detectives Bobby Goren and Amy Carlson a few steps behind her. It had been four months since her kidnapping … all three of the rapists were sitting in Riker's on death row. What was she doing _here_?

Some had heard of the new case the detectives had received that morning – it was all over the news for some reason that a junkie had been found dead in Central Park. Not very news worthy to the city full of junkies, but seeing Lynne's normally vibrantly happy face so full of pain and anguish, many of the detectives could guess who the junkie had been.

Deakins met the sobbing woman half way to his office. After one look at her tear-stained cheeks, he enveloped her in a fatherly hug and offered all of the comfort to her that he could. Her arms hugged him back as she released even more of the pent-up tears that seemed to need to turn her eyes into miniature waterfalls.

Detective Shay Lemmick approached the group to find out what was wrong with the woman for sure. He tapped Bobby's shoulder and asked, "What happened?"

Bobby's own, sorrowful eyes met Shay's light green orbs, "Mike's dead."

"You can't be serious," Shay protested.

Bobby just turned back to Lynne, "Would she look like that if I wasn't?"

Shay looked down and shook his head, hardly able to even comprehend the news. Deakins led Lynne into his office, closing the door behind them to prevent eavesdropping detectives from hearing anything that was said.

Shay turned back to his desk mutely, soon followed by all the other detectives. Bobby turned to his recent partner, Amy, "I'm going back to help the M.E. with her report. You should get started on his phone records."

Amy nodded, not really appreciating the way Goren was taking the lead in this investigation. She could understand that it was his girlfriend's brother that was found dead … but shouldn't they hand the case off to someone who wasn't so attached? When she asked as much he just glared at her, "Look around, Carlson. The whole damn _squad_ is attached."

---

"I feel like the rug's been yanked out from under me," Lynne told Gina at her next visit. Her insurance had only authorized twenty visits, but when they had run out, Gina had signed Lynne on as an outpatient.

Gina nodded, "You're brother's dead. That can traumatize anyone."

Lynne shook her head, "You don't understand: my sister, Amelia, was seven years older than me. She OD'd on cocaine when I was nearly twelve." Tears began falling down Lynne's smooth face. Too common an occurrence in the last few months. "Michael told me he'd kicked it."

Gina's heart went out to Lynne, knowing all the trauma she had gone through in the past few months. She moved so she was sitting beside her patient on the couch, and held her as she cried her eyes out.

When Lynne had quieted down, she pulled back with a slight smile on her face. "Bobby's taking me upstate this weekend," she said, doing a complete 180-degree turn in their conversation from talking about Michael's death. "He's taking me to see one of his friends, Johnny. He's a tattoo artist."

Gina smiled softly before returning to her seat. "What for?" she asked as she picked up her legal pad again.

Lynne's smile faded and she looked down, a little embarrassed, "I told Bobby that part of the reason I can't make love to him right now is because of the scar … I'm terrified that he won't be able to see past it. He mentioned how some women who get mastectomies get a tattoo to cover the scaring … then he told me about Johnny and I said yes."

"So you're going to get a tattoo to cover the scar on your abdomen?"

Lynne nodded, "Sprigs of aloe and a vine with a rose on it."

---

"Are you sure we can do this?" Emil Casovick asked his new partner as they went to the dog kennels.

Howard White nodded, rolling his eyes at his partner, "Of _course_ we can! I already cleared it with the Captain and the Commissioner. Sarge's bullet wound didn't heal properly and she's going to be forced into early retirement. With all that's happened to Lynne lately … it would be good for her to have someone else around to take care of and worry about."

Emil nodded, understanding that part, "But it's a _drug dog_, Howard."

"_She_. She _was_ a drug dog. And wouldn't you rather have Lynne being watched over by a dog than can _smell_ an ounce of coke from three hundred yards away, or a puppy that will need her complete attention for the first year and a half of life?" Howard asked as they walked into the kennels. "Personally, I'll feel a _lot_ better about Lynne's situation knowing that she has a dog by her side trained with the rest of the police dogs."

Emil sighed, "Let's go get Sarge."

---

Lynne was back on her full dose of anti-depressants. The side effect she was suffering from most was trouble sleeping, but she hadn't really expected much different considering she'd been having trouble sleeping since the kidnapping. And now Michael was dead.

She was sitting on her window seat, watching the rain fall against the New York City skyline. Rain was good. It reminded her how much she hurt inside. Michael and Amelia used to love watching the rain. Amelia had told Lynne that when it rained outside, the angels were weeping for joy and God was healing people. Lynne didn't know if that was true. All she really knew was that she hadn't been able to step foot inside a church since her sister had killed herself by OD-ing on cocaine.

A knock on the door brought Lynne out of her thoughts. She turned and watched as Madeline went to open it, revealing a rather large group of men made to look like drug dealers … and a dog. "Hello?" she asked curiously.

"We're here to see Lynne," one of the men said quietly. Lynne recognized the voice immediately as Emil's.

"Let 'em in, Maddy. They're Narks," Lynne said, her voice soft as she wiped the tears from her face. Soon, the apartment she had shared with Michael was filled with six Narcotics officers and a dog. She nodded toward the Doberman pinscher, "What's with the drug dog?"

Emil shifted his weight from one foot to another as one of his co-workers unleashed the dog and Sarge walked up to Lynne to put her head in the woman's lap. "Her name's Sergeant. We call her Sarge. She got shot last month in the hind leg and was forced into early retirement. … We thought you might like the company."

Lynne looked into the deep brown eyes of the Doberman sitting sagely in front of her. Her hands went to rub the dog's ears, eliciting a pant of joy and much tail wagging. "Sarge, don't get any ideas now. I'll expect you to keep up your end of this little deal and make them stop worrying so much," Lynne told the dog as if she could understand. "And in return I'll make sure you stay dry and well fed and cared for."

Sarge sat up and barked once, apparently in agreement, before turning to give the cops a look that clearly said, "I'll take it from here, boys." Sarge then looked back to Lynne and licked her face lovingly.

The laugh escaped Lynne's throat before she knew what was happening. A communal sigh of relief swept through the group watching the woman and dog interact. They would be fine, and they would help each other through it all.

Bobby, who had been in the rest room when the Narks walked in with Sarge, smiled in relief as he watched his girlfriend laughing and playing with Sarge: It was the first time she'd laughed since the day she had been kidnapped.

* * *

A/N: I really like Sarge ... and Gina. I'm not really sure if the thing about them retiring Sarge was completely accurate, but considering it's my story, I don't really care.

Please review.


	9. Mutual Goodbye

A/N: I wasn't planning on posting this yet, but I just found out that my nephew was born two hours ago at 7.5 pounds, 21 inches and I'm really excited. So, here ya go!

Thanks so much for the support of this story. This chapter took me a while to write because it was a little tricky figuring out how Lynne and Bobby broke up. I hope you like it!

Oh, and I keep on losing track so for the record: Bobby and Lynne have now known each other five years.

* * *

Lynne watched the water slide off the colorful tattoo she bore on her abdomen as she lay on the dock, her 'guys' swimming and horsing around a few meters away. She was wearing the bikini Madeline had somehow talked her into buying for the weekend trip to Jersey some of the detectives (now currently getting drunk and laughing at each other) had planned with Paul Matthew's help. 

The redhead watched the drops of water on the red rose petals evaporate in the heat of the early fall. It was the one year anniversary of her kidnapping. Her rapists were in prison; Billy was long gone; Bobby was as supportive as ever; but after everything that had happened, it was the dog that had saved her.

Sarge, somehow knowing her owner was thinking about her, trotted up to Lynne and laid her body over Lynne's stomach. The woman shrieked at the weight of Doberman. "Sarge!" she cried helplessly as her playful dog proceeded to lick her mercilessly.

Some of the detectives looked over to find out why Lynne was laughing at her dog, only to find the poor woman half covered by the retired police dog that had pinned her owner down and was licking her sloppily.

"Sarge, down!" Lynne squealed through her laughter. The dog immediately backed up so she was sitting next to _her_ person, giving her stomach one last sloppy kiss before sitting on her haunches and wagging her tail.

Lynne caught her breath before she noticed the detectives watching them closely. She leaned into her dog, "Get Bobby." She whispered the order, knowing Sarge would soon proceed to stalk around her prey for about two minutes before pouncing on her intended target: Robert Goren.

Step one: Look like a nice, friendly doggy that is just about to try to beg treats off target.

Step two: Approach target through roundabout rout, making many detours for snacks along the way.

Step three: Make target feel at ease and let down their guard by playing "Nice Doggy" for a few moments.

Step four: Attack and take no prisoners.

It was actually very humorous to watch Sarge stake out her intended targets and step in for the kill. Every single time Lynne told the dog to 'get' someone, Sarge took her own sweet time doing just that … and when she finally got her target it was the _funniest_ sight in the world.

When Sarge finally launched herself at Bobby, she hit his chest hard and sent them both back into the water with a loud **SPLASH** that sent water everywhere. They weren't too deep in, luckily, and soon Sarge had proceeded to pull Bobby from the water and 'attack' his face with her slobbery dog breath and tongue. Of course, he just _had_ to try to escape, causing the rather strong dog to pin him down with all four of her paws (somehow avoiding strategic areas) a growl and more licking.

Lynne was doubled over in laughter (along with nearly everyone else) by the time Sarge grew tired of 'getting' Bobby and left to chase a Frisbee Emil and Howard were tossing back and forth to each other. The detectives from Narcotics were quite pleased that they had given Lynne the best salve for her broken spirit. Sarge had done so much for their Lynne … she laughed _so_ much more than she had before. Lynne was a different person.

---

Lynne looked at her boss with an unreadable expression, "Are you serious, George?"

George nodded, "Yes, I am. The position would be a great leap in your career, Lynne. You're talent deserves the notoriety that would come from the promotion."

"But … Paris?" Lynne asked, unsure if she should be thrilled at the possibility or upset that she'd have to leave everyone she loved so much. "What would happen to my project, George?"

"The cops?" At Lynne's nod he said, "I was thinking of handing it over to Terry Landing. She has the skill to pull it off."

Lynne snorted, "If all she has on her plate is this. Do you know how much time it takes just to keep their suits in top form? Put her on it with James. They'd make a good pair."

"Does that mean you're taking the job?" George asked.

She furrowed her brow, looking down at her hands where they rested on her lap. What a way to come back to work after a weekend vacation with her guys! An offer for a position in Paris heading the advertising campaign and setting up a few runway shows. But … _Paris_?

"Can I think about it?" she finally asked, looking up at George.

George nodded, "I'll need your answer by tomorrow."

Lynne nodded once, "I'll give it to you tomorrow morning when I get in."

---

Mechanically Lynne parked her car on the street in front of One Police Plaza. She somehow made it up to the eleventh floor and over to Bobby's desk, where he was still studiously working despite the fact that normal work hours had ended over two hours before. "Bobby?" she said softly, causing him to look up.

"What is it, Lynne?" he asked, closing the file he had been reading, his face clearly showing the concern he felt.

She shook her head slightly, "Not here, Bobby. Come on. It's time for dinner."

"But-"

"No 'but's, mister. It's late and I'm positive you haven't eaten anything all day except a pastrami sandwich filled with trans fat and acid. Let's go."

Bobby's latest partner (of a month and a half) watched in awe as the big cop actually listened to the petite woman and gathered his things together to leave for the night. Deakins couldn't help but chuckle when he saw Lynne walk in and collect her boyfriend – that's just the way those two worked. Now, if only he could find a partner that would stay with Bobby as faithfully as Lynne had…

---

After dinner, the couple went back to Bobby's apartment and he finally questioned her, "Okay, Lynne. What's this about?"

She sighed as she sat down on the sofa, "I was offered a promotion …"

Bobby was baffled, "Th-that's great, Lynne. You deserve it."

Lynne's eyes closed as she said, "In Paris."

Her announcement caused Bobby to falter for a moment, but he soon seemed to regain his equilibrium; "Paris?"

Lynne nodded, her eyes studiously gazing at her hands. "It's a temporary position to try to fix some of the problems the French advertising board has been having. I'd be stationed primarily in Paris, but still doing some work in New York for an estimated two years … and I have to give George my answer by tomorrow morning."

Bobby sat down with a thump, "It's a helluva opportunity for your career."

"And it's in Paris." She looked at him with torn eyes, "Bobby, what am I supposed to do? Everything I care about is _here_."

He sighed, rubbing his hands through his hair before asking, "What do _you_ want to do, Lynne? If I wasn't a factor … if no one else but _you_ would be effected by it. What would you do?"

Her answer was almost instantaneous, "I'd take the job."

He nodded, his mind decided, "Then that's what you'll do."

"What?" now it was Lynne's turn to be confused.

"You'll take the job and the move to Paris."

"That easy, huh?"

"I didn't say it'd be easy." He started pacing. "Damn it, Lynne. You know I love you …"

She nodded, cutting him off, "I love you, too, Bobby. That's the problem, isn't it?"

"What?" he asked again, trying to figure out where she was going with her words.

Her eyes were full of understanding as she said, "We're not _in_ love anymore. I _love_ you, so much … and I know I always will. But I'm not _in_ love with you anymore. I don't think I've been in love with you for a while now. Ever since …" she trailed off, still unable to fully talk about what had happened to her the year before with anyone but Gina.

He nodded again, "I know. I'm so sorry you got caught in the middle of that."

"Me, too."

"C-can we still …?"

She nodded, "I'd like to still be your friend, Bobby. I'd like that a lot. You're such a wonderful man."

He sighed, sitting again in the chair he had vacated a few minutes before. "Yeah," he whispered, his eyes seeing without comprehending the room around him and the woman before him. Their intimate relationship had been dead for months now … it felt more of a relief to have it out in the open and fully acknowledged than it felt hurtful. It was best for both of them.

---

When Lynne had announced to her friends that she would be moving to Paris, there had been outrage. No one wanted to see her go, but when she explained how not very much was changing – there would still be someone there for them to take suits to when they got ripped … she'd _still_ only be a phone call or email away (only not the internet connection would be traveling a longer distance and the phone call would cost a lot more and require a different country's prefix) they grudgingly accepted her announcement.

After the group had finished eating, the police officers of all different ranks stopped by to give Lynne a hug and wish her well in Paris. When Jimmy Deakins and his wife stopped by, however, Lynne stopped them, "I won't just be staying in Paris, you know. Part of the job is to coordinate with the Armani team at this end, too. And it's only temporary. I'll be back."

Angie brought a hand up to stroke Lynne's cheek with a smile, "Of course you will, dear. We'll miss you too much to let you stay away for long."

Lynne's responding smile said more than her words ever could. She turned to Jimmy, "See if you can't find Bobby a partner that'll stick around for longer than a few months, okay, Jimmy?"

Deakins nodded, "I'm trying, Lynne. Don't worry about that. When do you leave?"

"Day after tomorrow; but I'll be back in a couple months with a preliminary report."

"Good," one of the other detectives (having been eavesdropping on the conversation) said with a grin, "Just enough time to get you good and hung over for your first day in Paris."

"Ah, yes, Stu, because I've been drunk with you guys _so_ many times before."

Stu smiled back cheekily, "There's a first time for everything."

Lynne and Bobby's eyes met over the crowd at those words. That's true. There _is_ a first time for everything … even breaking up and not feeling like crap the day after. It was more of a – a mutual goodbye.

A/N: So? What do you think?


	10. I'm Too Sexy

A/N: I know it's been a while, but I was having trouble with a transision scene in this.

Summary: Lynne is making ready for a New York runway show for Armani. It's the day of the show and all her models call in with food poisoning. Not to worry, though! She has Plan B. But how will she get all her cops to agree to the show on such short notice?

* * *

When the plane hit down on the tarmac, all Lynne could think of was that she was finally back where she belonged: _home_. It had been three months since the last time she'd touched foot on United States soil and she could hardly control her glee.

Lynne had spoken to Jimmy Deakins two days before her plane had embarked to New York. He was going to send someone to Newark International Airport to pick her up … lucky her they were sending a couple cops with badges that could get past security and pick her up at the gate.

As she gathered her laptop, sketchbook and carry on bag full of gifts for her cops, Lynne grinned infectiously, causing the other French businessmen on the plane to smile politely back at her. She turned her cell phone on as she made her way out of the plane and into the airport terminal, her grin still firmly in place on her face as she rushed headlong into the waiting arms of her brother, Paul.

"Paul!" she squealed in delight as she stepped back to get a better look at her brother. She looked at his companions and smiled again in delight as she recognized Bobby, Emil and Mitch. When she saw the sign the three men where holding she doubled over in laughter. In bold letters the sign proclaimed: _Will Solve Crime for Armani_.

When she finally got her laughter under control, Lynne shook her head at the three of them, "You guys are too much. Who's idea was the sign?"

Mitch scratched his head in a mock effort to remember, "I _think_ it was Lennie's, but it _could_ have been Sean's."

Emil rolled his eyes, "Actually, Mitch, it was Dan's. Remember? He saw the picture of Lynne in the Cap's office."

The woman cocked her head to one side as Bobby folded the sign again, Paul took her carryon and Mitch made a grab for her laptop bag. She handed it to him without pause and said, "Who's Dan?"

"He's the new guy in Narcotics," Emil explained as they headed toward the parking garage (Lynne's luggage having been shipped to the hotel a few days before to avoid being lost in the flight), "My new partner actually. Daniel Eames – nice man."

At Bobby's slight flush of the cheeks at the mention of Emil's partner, Lynne couldn't help but tease him, "What's the matter, Bobby? You got a crush on the new guy?"

As the other three men laughed at Goren's expense, the big cop's face turned tomato red. Lynne bumped his hip with her own (thanks to the added height of her Jimmy Choo stiletto sandals). The two had regressed back to their friendship days before they had ever slept together; both were comfortable in their new relationship and regained friendship … even if some of the other guys still teased Bobby about letting Lynne get away. Truth be told almost all of them were still very jealous of Bobby for ever having had that relationship with the spry, fiery woman.

Bobby bumped her back lightly, very conscious of the amount of pressure he was using so she would not fall in the very expensive heels she wore. "He _happens_ to be the brother of my new partner."

The cops (and Paul) waited silently as Lynne went through Customs, their silent forms a big support and … menacing presence for the airport personnel.

Lynne grinned again as she walked with the men to the SUV they had hijacked from One Police Plaza with the permission of Captain Jimmy Deakins. "So if you can't screw your partner you're gonna screw his brother?"

"_Her_ brother," Mitch said as Bobby sent a silent glare to Lynne. "His new partner – actually they've been together for about four months now – is a woman."

Lynne raised her eyebrows as she looked at Bobby again, "Four months?"

Bobby nodded, clearly embarrassed at the topic of conversation. Of course, that didn't stop Emil from saying, "Yep. He's finally found someone willing to put up with him. Actually, they just took down a guy going around killing abortion doctors."

Lynne's smile turned from teasing to sincerely happy at the news. Then she had a _very_ bad thought that was just dying to be voiced: "Is she pretty?"

Paul rolled his eyes, "Get in the car, Lynne, and stop tormenting Bobby." He raised his own eyebrows at his sister before saying, "Unless you want me to tell them what you told me the last time you were here."

Lynne stuck her nose in the air with a humph of outrage before sliding into the middle of the back seat in the SUV, snugly encircled by Emil and Paul while Mitch drove and Bobby rode in the passenger seat. The car ride was silent fore the most part until Lynne said, "I brought presents for all of you," as they pulled up outside the hotel Armani put her up in whenever she was in New York.

Mitch grinned back at Lynne as he double parked the car, "Of course you did. You _always_ do."

"Is that why you came to pick me up from the airport, Mitch? To get your present early?" Lynne asked, her eyes wide and incredulous. "Tsk, tsk, not nice, Detective. Just for that you're all going to have to wait until dinner tonight."

Emil slapped the back of Mitch's head, "Idiot. Why do you always have to go opening your mouth? I, for one, wanna see what she got us this time." It had become tradition ever since Lynne had moved to take over the advertising department in the Paris branch of Armani that when she came home to New York the first night back involved a dinner with all her 'guys' and a successful lavishing of presents on all of them … somehow, though, on her birthday they had surprised her with an even bigger dinner than usual and gave her the best gift in the world: a full day at the spa followed by their own (terribly hilarious and perfect black-mail material) version of _The Odd Couple_.

Before the conversation could continue, however, Lynne's phone began ringing. "Hello?" she answered.

"Lynne?" the terrified voice of Terry Landing. "Where are you?"

"Terry? I'm at the hotel. Why, what's wrong?" Lynne's brow furrowed as she led the four men into the hotel to check in.

"I screwed up! It's terrible! Oh my God, I don't know how it happened!"

"Terry!" Lynne nearly shouted, "You're babbling. Now, tell me what happened."

"You know the runway show tonight?"

Lynne glanced at her watch, "The one that starts in five hours?"

"Yes. That one … All of our male models … just came down with a really bad case of food poisoning."

"WHAT?" Lynne yelled this time, her voice reverberating through the lobby, causing all who heard to look at her in wonder that such a tiny woman could make such a loud noise.

She took a deep breath to calm herself down – the runway show was the main reason she was in New York. "Please tell me this is your idea of a joke," she said, her voice now low and full of barely controlled anger.

Then came the four words Lynne knew Terry would respond with, but had hoped to God she wouldn't hear: "I wish I could."

"Sweet Mary, mother of God," Lynne whispered under her breath, just loud enough for Paul and Bobby (the closest ones to her) to hear. "Okay, Terry. I need you to take a deep breath and stay calm for me. I'll be there in half an hour."

She closed the flip phone, effectively ending the call before sighing and going to check into her room. With her bags in her room, and the guys standing before her like cabana boys, she finally said with a forced smile, "All of the models for tonight's show have come down with a sudden case of _food poisoning_."

Lynne moved to sit on the sofa in the room, releasing her feet from their Jimmy Choo torture. With a groan she massaged her aching arches before saying, "Bobby, can you find me the burgundy oxfords in my bag?"

He scrunched his face into a scowl, "The ones that make you look five inches shorter than you actually are?"

She glared at him silently before saying, "Okay then, _you_ find me a pair of comfortable flats in that bag that aren't going to make me look short."

When he handed her a pair of ballerina flats made by some other designer she'd rather not think of, she just turned her glare onto the shoes. "No. They pinch my heels."

He sighed in resignation before going back to the hunt of finding her a pair of shoes that would be 'acceptable'. "You know," Mitch said, "Your shoes are worth a small fortune … couldn't you have got some that are actually _comfortable_?"

Lynne's smile called him an idiot as she said, "I only actually paid for about five pairs of the shoes in my closet … and if I only accepted shoes that I liked and were comfortable, I would be considered one of the most stuck up designers in the world, _and_ have no shoes."

"What about these?" Bobby asked, holding up a pair of chocolate suede buckle flats.

"Those'll work," Lynne said, holding out her hands for the shoes. "Now: Bobby, I need you to call Captain Deakins and tell him to get all the Major Case guys gathered together at the Armani building in exactly one hour. Emil, I want you to go make sure the guys at Narcotics do the same; and Mitch, same goes for you and Homicide. I want everyone who's not on duty there in exactly one hour. Got it?" At their nods she shooed the from the room, "Go on. And remind them to carpool!" The three detectives left without argument or question.

Paul lagged behind, "Lynne?"

She turned to look at him, wondering what was bothering her brother, "What is it, Paul?"

He took a deep breath before asking, "You remember when I told you three weeks ago that I was going to try for a spot in that new play?" At her nod, he continued, "Well … I got it."

Lynne grinned, giving her older brother a hug, "That's great, Paul! Wonderful! Now, come on, I have to get over to the Armani building before Terry has a heart attack."

---

By the time Lynne walked into the building Armani was having its fashion show in, Terry very nearly _was_ having a heart attack. When she saw Lynne walking her way, Terry ran at her and hugged the much smaller woman tightly.

"Oh, thank God!" Terry cried in relief. Lynne patted her shoulder uncomfortably, trying to maneuver her way out of the bone-crushing hug.

"Terry, let her go," James said as he walked toward the women with a small, relieved smile on his face. "What's Plan B, boss?"

Lynne smirked slightly after Terry let her go, "What makes you think I have a Plan B? What if Plan A was all there was?"

James smirked in response as Terry stuttered, "B-but there ha-has to be a Pl-plan B-b-b-b! There has to!"

Lynne chuckled, "Of course there's a Plan B. But it happens to go by the name Plan C, for Cop." She looked at her watch, "They should be arriving in a few minutes. James, do you have the prototypes you were working on for the cops done yet?"

James nodded, "Almost – just a few more seams left to sew. I left them in my office, though. Why?"

"I need you to head over and get them as quickly as possible. _They're_ Plan B."

James grinned, "Oh, boss, I like the way you think."

---

When Lynne arrived back at the Armani building with James in tail, there were fifteen officers mulling around in her office. One of them, discussing something manly with Bobby, Lynne didn't recognize.

She walked up to them, "You must be Dan Eames. I'm Lynne."

Dan shook her hand, "It's nice to meet you. I've heard … interesting things about you." At her raised eyebrows he elaborated, "All good. Don't worry, ma'am."

Lynne chuckled, "Wow. I don't think I've been called 'ma'am' by a police officer since," she turned to Bobby, "Since the first time I met you and Emil, actually." Turning her attention back to Dan, she added, "Call me Lynne. Everyone else does and it might get a little confusing if you don't."

"Now, Lynne," Lennie Briscoe said loudly enough to gain everyone's attention, "What's up with this thing? Why are we here?"

Lynne grinned now that she had everyone's attention, "Do you all remember when you signed up for this gig? I told you that there _may_ be a time when I needed your help … well that time has come."

She nodded to James who took up the narration, "There's a runway show that starts in four hours that is now without models for our men's line."

"What happened?" Detective Howard White asked, curious about the turn of events.

"A mass case of food poisoning," James explained. "All the models went out to the same restaurant for breakfast and … apparently the oil was bad. You all are our last resort."

"Consider it a personal favor to me," Lynne added when James had finished and his words were met by shocked silence.

"Meaning?" Emil asked.

Lynne smiled at him sweetly, "Meaning if you do this, I'll take you all out for drinks and reenact what happened the last time you made me sing karaoke."

"What song?" Jimmy Deakins asked, his eyes lighting up at the possibility.

"For this? … 'I'm Too Sexy'."

"By _Right Said Fred_?" At her nod the answer was almost simultaneous from all the cops, "I'm in!"

---

Lynne sighed as she slipped into the Mary Jane stiletto pumps in place. She looked over at her guys and grinned at their nervous mannerisms. It was, after all, their first runway show and they were concerned about the obvious things (tripping, falling down, generally making an ass of themselves on camera).

Daniel Eames was about the same size as Emil, so when Terry had returned to the hall where the show was taking place she brought two of Emil's suits with her. One, Lynne had Dan put on and she went to work tailoring it to fit his slightly slimmer body.

Now, it was moments before Lynne was to go out and announce the start of the show, the men were nervous, Terry was drinking a cup of tea to calm her frayed nerves, and James was walking around with water bottles, calming the cops.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to announce a change in tonight's show," Lynne said as she stepped out onto the catwalk. "Tonight, we will still be showing our Men's Business Line … but the men walking down this runway will _not_ be models."

At the shocked murmurs that arose, Lynne raised her hand to ask for silence. "Instead," she continued, "They will be some of New York City's finest police officers, detectives … and even a captain."

She walked back off stage and cued the music to start, prompting Jimmy Deakins (he was the unfortunate soul who picked the short straw) to start walking the gauntlet.

---

"I'm too sexy for my love too sexy for my love  
Love's going to leave me

I'm too sexy for my shirt too sexy for my shirt  
So sexy it hurts  
And I'm too sexy for Milan too sexy for Milan  
New York and Japan …"

Lynne sang the song with gusto, doing her own little dance on the stage as she sang for the large group of men in the back of the room. She felt ridiculous singing the spoof on models, but considering what she had just put her guys through, if they wanted her to sing it in a karaoke bar frequented by cops … then sing it she would.

"I'm too sexy for my too sexy for my too sexy for my

'Cos I'm a model you know what I mean  
And I do my little turn on the catwalk  
Yeah on the catwalk on the catwalk yeah  
I shake my little touche on the catwalk …"

As tempted as she was to actually shake her ass at the guys in the back of the room, Lynne held back, the more dominant part of her brain reminding her that there were other cops besides her own in the bar.

"And I'm too sexy for this song."

Lynne ended the song with a flourish as she pranced off the stage and back to her guys (who were laughing their asses off at her exaggerated performance). "So?" she said, "Was that good enough?"

"Lynne, I _knew_ there was a reason we kept you around!" Jimmy said with a grin.

She grinned in response, "You mean besides the free Armani?"

"I'd hardly call it free! Especially not after that show we had to put on tonight," Howard complained before diving back into his rather frothy black beer.

"Oh, Howwie, don't complain!" Lynne chastised, "It wasn't that bad!"

Just then Bobby walked back to the table from the bar, "Nice performance, Lynne."

Lynne grinned at him, "And who was that blonde you were chatting up?"

He blushed and muttered something as Jimmy answered, "His partner – Alex Eames. I didn't know she was here, Goren."

Bobby shrugged, "Dan saw her. I promised I'd buy her a margarita after we got Griscom. Now was as good a time as any to make good on it."

Lynne yawned, "Damn jetlag. Okay, I'm going to head back to my hotel – who's my guard dog for the night?"

"I am," Emil said, standing up and placing a few bills down on the table to pay for the drinks he'd had. Having one of the guys take Lynne back to her hotel had been started during her first trip back to the States after moving to France. Being as she was still wary of taking cab rides by herself since her kidnapping, they rotated who got the 'honor' of accompanying her in the cab back to the hotel.

She nodded, "Good. Let's go." She sent a smile to the rest of the cops, "Presents tomorrow. I made you all custom ties with your badges on them. Something nice to wear from now on when you go to memorial services. Night!"

Soon Lynne was safely ensconced in her hotel room, fast asleep in the king sized bed, beneath a down comforter, surrounded by goose feather pillows, dreaming of a time when she didn't have the hole in her heart, left by the death of her brother.

* * *

A/N: Happy Chanukah. Reviews make excellent Chanukah presents. 


	11. Revisiting Maggie Coulter

A/N: This chapter is a little cooky, but it came to me as I was watching a rerun of 'Homo Homini Lupus' with Lynne in mind and (well, that was when I decided Lynne got kidnapped and raped) the idea of Lynne having a heart-to-heart with Maggie came to mind. Thus we get: pie.

Summary: Bobby asks Lynne to do something very difficult: talk to a young woman named Maggie Coulter on one of Lynne's trips to the U.S. about the time Lynne was kidnapped and raped. Can she help the young woman see that life can still be lived to the fullest after the most brutal of crimes has been committed against you?

* * *

"I don't know why I let you talk me into doing this, Bobby," Lynne muttered angrily as they walked up the steps of the Coulter's townhouse. She pulled down her shirt yet again as he rang the doorbell. Part of her was still uncomfortable in the jeans and blouse, but the greater part knew that it was the only way to prove to Maggie that Lynne really knew what she was talking about. 

Bobby smiled lovingly at his ex-girlfriend, "Yes you do, Lynne. Maggie needs to know that there are other women out there who have survived what she's gone through, _and_ what she's going through. You're the best person for that job."

Lynne glared at him again as the door opened and the pair was confronted with Susan Coulter, Maggie's mother. Bobby gave her a slight nod, "Mrs. Coulter, this is my friend, Lynne, that I was telling you about."

The designer turned her attention to Maggie's mother with a small smile. "Hi. Bobby told me what happened to you and your daughters." She looked down, nervously tugging on her shirt, before saying, "I think I might be able to help."

Mrs. Susan Coulter nodded once, "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Andrews. Please, come in."

Soon the three of them were sitting in the Coulter's living room. "You think you can help my daughter?" Susan asked Lynne.

Lynne nodded adamantly, her eyes seeking reassurance from the big man sitting beside her, "About three years ago I … was kidnapped in hopes that Bobby would pay a debt his brother owed to some … very powerful people. There were … three assailants …" she swallowed heavily, trying to keep her emotions and her voice under control, "whose favorite method of torture was rape."

"Three?" Susan asked, shock evident in her eyes. It was hard enough for her daughter to cope with the one man who had taken away her soul … but _three_?

Lynne nodded, her saddened eyes meeting Susan's, "Yes, three. They had me for four days before the voluntary task force was able to locate and free me. I suffered a knife wound on the lower part of my stomach, which was infected by the time I was rescued … and serves as a constant reminder of what I went through."

Susan shook her head slightly, "I … I just don't know what to do for her. She won't talk to the therapist, to me, or even to her sister. Maggie just sits in her room doing nothing and looking like something inside of her died."

"Something inside of her _did_ die," Lynne told Susan with a nod. "It's going to be a long time before she's comfortable enough around anyone to talk about it openly."

"Then why are you here?"

"To let her know that she's a strong young woman and she can live through this. Bobby already put that seed of thought into her mind … she's just going to need some help, that's all."

"And how do I help her?" It was _so_ evident that Susan needed to know how to help her daughter overcome her trials. That's why it broke Lynne's heart so much that she didn't hold better news for her.

"By reminding her that you love her and you'll do your best never to leave her alone again," the younger woman said, tears filling her eyes. She handed Susan a business card, "This is the card for Dr. Gina Timber … she helped me a great deal after …" Lynne shook herself out of her memories and added, "Don't worry about her fees – if it helps Maggie to talk to Gina the cost is nothing you have to worry about."

"You really don't have to do that," Susan protested, but Lynne just shook her head.

"I know that. But other than getting a dog, going to see Gina is all I can offer you in way of advice."

"What about my daughter?" Susan asked, now rather confused.

Lynne smiled stiffly, "Can I talk to her?"

"You can try."

As the three of them rose to escort Lynne to Maggie's room upstairs, Bobby's cell phone went off. He looked at the number and sighed, "It's my partner. I've gotta go." He turned to Lynne, "Will you be okay taking a cab back to your hotel?"

She shook her head, "I'll call Paul and have him pick me up. I'll be fine, Bobby. Go."

With one last look to make sure she wasn't lying, the detective bounded out the door and to the call of duty.

"Why's he so concerned about you riding a cab?" Susan asked as she led Lynne up the stairs to Maggie's room.

"I was abducted from a cab after leaving Bobby's house one morning on my way to work," Lynne explained. "I haven't been able to ride in a cab alone since then."

Susan knocked on the door, opening it as she said, "Maggie? One of Detective Goren's friends is here to see you."

Lynne walked into the room, taking in the orderliness of the teenager's things, and the way the girl just sat, staring out her window, looking listless and alone. "Hi, Maggie. My name's Lynne."

"I'll just leave you two to talk, then," Susan said, closing the door again as she left.

"I don't want to talk about it," Maggie said after her mother left, not removing her gaze from the street below.

"Good," Lynne said, causing Maggie to look at her as she sat down on Maggie's bed, "I'll talk – you listen."

The young woman looked back out the window, resolved to having to hear the older woman speak her piece but still resolved not to say another word.

"Maggie … you seem to think you're the only woman who's ever been kidnapped and raped before," Lynne started off slowly, deliberately forming her words. "When it happened to me, I felt the same way. No other woman in the world had to stand four days of untold torture at the hands of not one – but _three_ men."

At that revelation, Maggie looked back up at Lynne, who was watching her with intense eyes that held no trace of the pity Maggie had grown to loath. "I stepped into a cab, told the driver the address of my work … and watched him take a wrong turn in the opposite direction we should have been going. He stuck a needle in my leg and I passed out. When I came to … they had me gagged, blindfolded, and my wrists and ankles tied to the posts of a bed." Her eyes dropped to look at her lap, "The first one came at me and removed the gag … they wanted me to scream. So I didn't."

Lynne's hate filled eyes met Maggie's, "Three days full of those monsters using me for their pleasure. One of them even left a physical reminder." She unbuttoned the bottom buttons on her shirt and pulled the sides apart so Maggie could see the tattoo covered scar adorning her abdomen.

The young woman's eyes filled up with tears as she picked out the scar hiding amidst the vines, roses and aloe on the older woman's stomach. "He made me feel so … and I don't want to feel like that ever again."

"I know, Maggie. I really do. Everyone deserted us when we needed them most … the men we trusted more than anyone else were the ones that put us in danger. I know."

Maggie got up and went to sit by Lynne on the bed, "How long did it take you to be able to laugh again?"

"While meaning it?" Maggie nodded and Lynne sighed, "That's hard to say, Maggie. You see, my brother, Michael, died four months after I was kidnapped. About a week after that, some of my cop friends from the Narcotics Unit got me a dog. Her name's Sarge and she was shot during a bust – had to retire early and needed a good home."

Lynne shrugged, "She needed a good home and I needed someone able to take my mind off it all. When I first met Sarge … she came right up to me, planted her front paws on my legs, leaned forward and _slobbered_ all over my face. That was the first time I laughed since the kidnapping."

Maggie half smiled at the story: for the first time since her kidnapping she saw a light at the end of the dark and dreary tunnel. "It's like they're walking on eggshell around me, you know? Kids at school – and the teachers, too – all of 'em heard about what happened and they're treating me like this doll that can't be played with because it's so fragile. Mom and Dad are doing it, too. I just want things to be the way they were before."

"Maggie, you know that's impossible," Lynne said, one of her arms snaking around the younger woman's shoulders, pulling her close, "They're gonna do what they feel is right. But you gotta remember that they're doing it _for_ you. They just wanna help you. It took me a year to get my co-workers to stop babying me."

"And your cop friends?" Maggie asked, her pain ridden eyes seeking out and finding the hope that lay in Lynne's.

"There's a reason I don't take cab rides alone anymore. For the most part, though, they stopped mother henning me when I got Sarge. She's a well-trained dog and lets them know when something's bugging me. Do you like dogs, Maggie?"

"Yeah, sure. They never let you down."

"Why don't we talk to your mom about getting you a dog? I know of one of the Doberman Pinchers that the canine unit uses just got caught in another bust and is in need of a good home. Forced into early retirement by the acid sprayed onto his hind legs."

Maggie nodded, the idea of getting a dog providing her something other than pain to dwell on for the first time in two weeks. "Okay."

"Let's go, then," Lynne smiled softly as she re-buttoned her shirt and the two walked out of Maggie's room and down the stairs.

Both of Maggie's parents were waiting for them in the living room. "You might want to consider rearranging the furniture in here, and in the entry way," Lynne told them. "It'll help the nightmares for all of you."

Susan nodded, "Thank you."

"And it would help if you got ready for a dog," Lynne added.

"A dog? As what, a coping mechanism?" Maggie's father asked, incredulous.

Lynne's cool eyes met his as she cocked her head to one side and said, "Mr. Coulter: never underestimate the power of a dog. Especially one trained by the police to find drugs and people." She handed another card to Susan, "This is the card for Detective Emil Casovick. When you call him about the dog – Riley – he'll make the arrangements to drop him off sometime in the next week."

As she was talking, her cell phone started beeping, signifying a text message had been received. Lynne read the message from Terry (another S.O.S.) and sighed. Turning back to the Coulter's she said, "I'm sorry, I really have to go. It was nice meeting you, Maggie. Don't forget what I said. Good bye."

"Bye, Lynne," Maggie said, a small smile playing across her face as she watched the older woman run out to the street to wait for the car Terry had sent to pick her up. Oh, yeah, she was gonna be okay.

* * *

A/N: So? Pie anyone? 

I'm going to try to get the last one before 'How Does Bobby ...?' up before the new year. So, stay tuned, review, and eat pie.


	12. My Guys

A/N: This is the last one before 'How Does Bobby Afford All That Armani?' and I decided that THAT one takes place between 'Probablity' and 'Monster'. Enjoy! ... Oh, and Merry Christmas for those of you who celebrate it.

Summary: Lynne moves back from France after two years and four months, to find things much changed from when she'd left. She convinces the guys to go out to a bar with her when it's karaoke night. Enter: Eric. Eric Reasons.

---

"SARGE! Get back here right now!" the petite woman yelled at her large dog, hands on her hips in a move that reminded those who witnessed it of an irritated mother scolding her child.

Sarge stopped short of where she was about to pounce a large, burly man, before turning and slinking back to her owner like the good little doggie she was. She moaned when she saw the leash her owner had in her hands, but didn't try to evade it as it was clipped onto her collar. She knew better.

"I told you not to do that, Sarge," Lynne chastised her dog halfheartedly, "You knew that Bobby was coming this way anyway, you didn't have to go jump him halfway here. I _told_ you that if you don't behave you're going to get the leash. Now we've gotta keep it on until we get back to our new house."

By the time her lecture ended, Bobby – the big man the dog had almost jumped – was standing in front of them with another four men. "You don't have to do that on my account, Lynne," he told the woman.

Lynne glared at him, "I didn't do it on your account, Bobby. Sarge and I had a deal and she broke it." The dog looked up mournfully at her human, sighing in a resigned air as she waited for them to get a move on. Sarge knew she had broken the rules, but she didn't have to like her punishment.

Sarge whined pitifully at her human before barking once, causing Lynne to nod, "Quite right, Sarge. Quite right." Turning her attention to the men she asked, "Now, my luggage was shipped as usual, so where are you taking us for lunch?"

Mitch furrowed his brow, "It's not even ten, yet. You're thinking about _lunch_?"

Lynne grinned at him patronizingly, "Time difference, darling. We're still on Paris time and it happens to be _past_ lunch time there."

Bobby's mouth quirked into a small smile at the way Lynne handled Mitch and the other cops. Not very many women could so firmly insert themselves in a position of power among the NYPD … especially when she was not a cop herself.

"How 'bout the diner just one the border?" Jimmy Deakins suggested.

Lynne nodded, "Okay. Wait … is that the one that allows dogs inside?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if it didn't," Jimmy assured her.

As the six of them walked out of Newark International Airport, Lynne stopped and turned to the men before her. "Before we start back to the city … I have something to tell you all," she said with barely contained excitement.

They stopped and turned to look at her expectantly as she looked down at the dog, "You know that I normally don't bring Sarge with me on my trips to New York because she doesn't like planes … I brought her this time because I've been transferred back to New York. Permanently."

The five men were silent for a moment too long before Howard said, "Well … I guess this calls for cake."

---

A few nights later, through some strike of luck, Lynne and all of her guys (not undercover on a sting in Narcotics) settled down in their favorite karaoke bar/diner for a celebratory dinner in her honor.

Apparently Bobby had just gotten through with a very difficult terrorism case, and Jimmy was using the night also as a way to get the big detective to wind down after the close call. Maybe too close a call.

"How's he been, Mitch?" Lynne asked as they sipped their drinks.

Mitch Stevens shrugged, "Hard to say. His partner, Alex Eames, is doing wonders for him professionally. They have the highest solve and conviction rate in the squad – not to mention the whole department – but otherwise … he's been going on a lot of dates with a _lot_ of different women."

"Damn," Lynne muttered, one of her hands subconsciously traveling to rest atop her scarred abdomen. A thought came to her mind and she smirked, downing the rest of her martini to calm her nerves, "I'll be back."

"Where are you going?" Emil asked, having heard her comment and wondering what was going through her head.

Lynne grinned at him, "Just watch."

The two detectives watched as she approached the DJ who was in charge of the karaoke and spoke with him for a few minutes. At first he looked confused, then he started nodding and pointing out a song to her on the play list. Moments later she was standing on the stage, in front of the microphone.

"Before I start singing this … rather interesting song," Lynne said into the microphone, "I'd like to let you all know that the lyrics have been changed on purpose. Now … for the group of cops sitting right over there: thank you."

She nodded to the disk jockey and he pressed play on the song she had selected. Soon the opening notes of _My Guy_ filled the air.

"Nothing you could say  
Can tear me away from my guys  
Nothing you could do  
Cause I'm stuck like glue to my guys

I'm stickin' to my guys like a stamp to a letter  
Like birds of a feather  
We... stick together  
I will tell you from the start  
I can't be torn apart from my guys."

Nothing could remove the grin on her face as she sang the slightly changed lyrics to the group of cops in the corner. She could see half of them laughing like idiots while the other half grinned like fools. Even Bobby got into the spirit of her performance and for the first time since Nicole Wallace his smile reached his eyes.

As she continued to sing, Lynne removed the microphone from the stand and started walking off stage, toward the group she had come with. When she reached them, she started singing directly to them, seeming to forget the other men in the room besides the group of twenty – her guys.

"As a matter of opinion  
I think they're tops..  
My opinion is they're the cream of the crop  
As a matter of taste to be exact  
They're my ideal as a matter of fact..

No muscle bound man could take my hand from my guys  
No handsome face could ever take the place of my guys  
They may not be movie stars  
But when it comes to be happy we are...  
There's not a man today who could take me away   
from my guys  
No muscle bound man could take my hand  
from my guys  
No handsome face could ever take the place  
of my guys

They may not be movie stars  
But when it comes to be happy we are..  
There's not a man today who could take me away  
from my guys  
There's not a man today who could take me away  
from my guys."

She ran back to the stage to put the microphone back as everyone clapped heartily and laughed their asses off: she had ended the song sitting firmly in Bobby's lap and pressed a chaste kiss to his stubble covered cheek.

"That was quite a performance, Lynne," Jimmy said when she walked calmly back to the tables the group was sitting at. "I think you nearly gave a few of the other patrons a heart attack when you started walking off the stage."

She smirked again, "A girl's gotta have _some_ fun."

Bobby was about to comment on her performance when a waiter came up and said, "Miss? This is from the gentleman at the bar," pointing to one of the other patrons.

Lynne, along with all of the cops she was with, looked first at the green apple martini the mystery man had sent over, then at the mystery man himself. "Well," Lynne said, her eyebrows raised as she took the drink, "You can thank him for me … and ask him how he's so sure of himself that I'm not dating one of men I came with."

The waiter smiled slightly, being very familiar with the technical of this particular group of cops and the woman who had them all so firmly wrapped around her finger. He nodded before tucking the empty tray under his arm and heading back to the bar to inform the mystery man of her answer.

"Lynne, you're a cruel woman," Lennie said with a small smile.

She just shrugged, taking a sip of the martini, "I'm all for not paying for my drinks … but he's just being presumptuous."

The waiter came back, "Miss? He told me to give you this," he handed Lynne the mystery man's business card. "And he also said that if you are dating one of the gentlemen you came with, he's very sorry for interrupting your evening."

"Thanks," Lynne said, taking the business card, glancing at it, and passing it to Jimmy. "Can we get another round, please?"

"Same as before?" he asked in reference to the three club sodas that would come with the beers most of the men were partaking in.

Lynne looked at the men, who all nodded. "Yep. Stick it on my tab."

He nodded, "Sure. Have a good night, ma'am, detectives."

"Okay, Jimmy," Lynne said, turning her attention to the older man, "Any idea who Mr. Mystery Man is?"

He shook his head, "This thing says he's a stock broker, but I've never heard of him."

"What's his name?" Lennie asked while the other men leaned in to hear over the din in the background.

"This says he's Eric Reasons," Jimmy responded. Lynne smiled slightly as she sat down, silently laughing at the way Jimmy had phrased his statement.

"So … Lynne, are you gonna call him?" Howard asked curiously.

She looked at him with an amused face, "You mean before or _after_ one of you runs a background check on him?"

"That's not fair," Bobby protested.

She looked at him, "But it's entirely true."

"That's beside the point," Mitch insisted. "We'd never actually _tell_ you if we ran a background check on him."

She nodded, "That's true, you haven't in the past … but if there was even so much as a speeding ticket on him you'd make sure he somehow … magically _disappeared_ into the framework of Manhattan."

---

Later that night, when Jimmy was dropping Lynne off at her new penthouse, she turned to him and asked, "So you'll let me know if there's anything to worry about by tomorrow night, right?"

He nodded, "Yep. I'm just going to check and make sure he's not some sociopath on the run for killing his ex-wife, okay?"

She smiled warmly, "Thanks, Jimmy. Goodnight."

"Night."

---

Two weeks later Lynne let Eric take her out to dinner at a nice French restaurant of his choosing. He seemed nice enough, steady job, no criminal record, an only child of two very devoted parents still living in upstate New York. He seemed a nice catch.

Eric was … of average height (such a change after dating Bobby); light brown hair; blue eyes; tan skin … he was a pretty boy. A rich pretty boy.

"Hi," he said when he met Lynne at the restaurant. "I'm actually surprised you agreed to this, Mary Lynne."

"It's just Lynne," she told him as they were led to their table, "And I can't imagine why that would be, Eric. You seem like the type of man who's not used to being told 'no' by a woman."

He shrugged with a small smiled, "I can't very well deny that … but that was some group of men with you the other night."

"What can I say?" she said dryly, "I simply _adore_ police officers."

Eric raised an eyebrow flawlessly, "All of them were police officers?"

She nodded, motioning for their waiter, "Of course."

"Mademoiselle?" the waiter inquired politely with a French accent, "Are you and Monsieur ready to order?"

"Oui, si vous plaît," Lynne responded, her accent perfect. As she ordered a glass of Chardonnay and something to start out with, Eric watched her with awe and fascination.

"Monsieur?" the waiter asked, turning his attention to the businessman.

"Umm, the same," he said, having not a clue what he had just agreed to pay for, let alone _eat_. The waiter nodded and left, leaving Eric and Lynne alone. "So … any other hidden talents of yours I get to know about?"

Lynne smirked slightly, "Oh, I don't know. What would you like to know?"

"Where'd you learn to speak French like that?"

"In Paris. I just got back from two years working at the Paris branch of Armani."

"You're a designer?"

"Business suits," she nodded. "It's how I met my … friendly detectives."

"Well then," Eric said, cocking his head to one side, "Now I know where to go when I need to get a new suit for a business function."

Lynne smiled politely as she wondered if Mr. Eric Reasons had a real personality hiding behind the cocky bastard act he was putting on.

"Eric," she said suddenly, cutting him off in the middle of a story about his days studying at Harvard.

"What?" he asked, wondering if it was possible he had said something wrong already.

"Stop trying to impress me," she said, her face deadly serious. "I'm not that shallow."

He laughed slightly, "Of course you're not. You're friends with over two dozen cops – how could you be?"

"Thirty-five," she responded, her eyes going cold at the insinuation he made about her friends, "The Chief of Detectives and a Commissioner included among that number. Now, if you have nothing better to say than to _insult_ my _friends_ then I'm just going to leave now."

"No, wait," he said, "I didn't mean it like that. Really, I'm not this shallow normally, either. It's just … I like you. A lot. And I don't want to screw this up."

She reclaimed her seat and fiddled with her fork for a second before saying, "Just be yourself … I'll tell you after we eat if you screwed it up."

He laughed heartily at that, taking the bait and just acting like himself for the rest of the evening … well, as much himself as he could be in an up class French restaurant. After they ate, she informed him that he didn't screw it up and that he could have the honor of accompanying her to a benefit she had to attend the following week.

* * *

A/N: How's this? Any good? Please review. Oh, and in 'How Does Bobby...' I changed it so that Eric and Lynne are still just dating. 

Yay! The prequel is done! I'm going to put all the ones after 'How Does Bobby' in a seperate story ... but it may be a while before that gets put up because I'm going out of town at the end of January for about three months.


End file.
